


laced with your doubt

by thetruthmayvary



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Artists, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-07
Updated: 2013-04-13
Packaged: 2017-11-18 04:48:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 37,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/557071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thetruthmayvary/pseuds/thetruthmayvary
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When art gets complicated, Zayn gets frustrated, Liam gets confused and Harry gets butterflies in his stomach.</p><p>Or</p><p>The one in which Zayn can paint the future, Harry's into sculpture, Liam doesn't see what's right in front of him, Louis' confident and Niall likes playing his guitar.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. a mess, a start, a flawed work of art

It was nearly dark outside when Zayn finally took a step back from the painting he had been working on; the bright colours of the campus were making a slow but steady progression towards an array of greys.

He was tired and sweaty, his whole body ached, his t-shirt was soaked, but it barely registered because he was too preoccupied trying to figure out what the hell had happened.

This wasn't the first time he'd found himself standing in front of a painting, not knowing how that painting came to be, unable to remember the last few hours of his life. It was as if someone had knocked him out, painted a masterpiece, and then run off just before he came to consciousness.   

But he could clearly see from the movements of the brush, the disposition of the shadows, even the choices of colours, that this was his work. Besides, he was standing on his own two feet, holding a well-worn brush in one hand, and there was a vague memory of setting up a new canvas.

Only this wasn't what he had set out to paint.

The canvas in front of him depicted a blue sky filled with a multitude of colourful air balloons, some up close, some already fading into the blue sky, mixing with the light grey clouds.

Two days ago, when the same thing had happened, he'd somehow painted a girl lying on the floor in the middle of a crowded cafeteria which looked far too much like the one on campus to be labeled a coincidence.

It confused, worried, and frustrated him at the same time. Confused- because even when he painted while high or drunk he could always remember at least the vital parts of the process. Worried- because it made him feel like he was losing his fucking mind, and frustrated- because he actually needed to work on paintings for his classes, and how could he do that when some unconscious part of his brain liked to take control and paint stuff that just didn’t make any fucking sense?

He needed a cigarette.

He roamed around his messy room, trying to find the package he'd bought earlier that morning. He managed to locate it under the pile of clothes on his desk chair, took a quick glance to check if the lighter was inside, and yes, thank heavens, it was. He went to the living room, just for the sake of getting out of the cluttered bedroom, sprawled on the couch and lit one up.

He relaxed a little as soon as the smoke entered his lungs, felt like he could breathe more freely- as stupid and ironic as that sounded.

Zayn hadn't even managed to finish up the one cigarette before he heard the front door being unlocked, his two roommates entering the apartment soon after. 

Liam gave him a stern look as he walked through the door, and even though Zayn knew the reason behind it was his smoking in the living room ( _again),_  he didn't really feel like being reprimanded right now.

“What?” he asked defensively.

“At least open the window, you dimwit ” The insult barely registered as such in Liam’s slightly exasperated voice.

Zayn got up reluctantly and opened the back window, inhaling a breath of fresh air as he did so.

“Happy?”

“Positively beaming,” Liam said, and Zayn noticed that indeed he was beaming. If only everyone was so easy to please.

Zayn walked back to the couch only to find Harry lying across the whole thing. Zayn rolled his eyes at him, and sat in the armchair instead.

Harry gave a great yawn before mumbling a weak, “I'm tired.“

“From what?” Zayn wondered aloud; after all, Harry and Liam had just gone to grab some fastfood, they hadn't run a freaking marathon. “Eating?”

“Yeah,” Harry responded. “That shit's exhausting.”

Zayn gave an empty laugh.

Harry sat up a bit, eyeing Zayn critically. “What's up with you?” he demanded, and Liam's daddy instinct must've kicked in because Zayn could feel Liam watching him from the kitchen with uneasy eyes.

Zayn hated when Liam worried.

“Nothing,” he said, “I'm just tired, too.”

“Did you at least finish the assignment?” Harry pressed.

“Yeah,” Zayn answered almost without thinking, but he really hated lying to his friends, so he backtracked. “Well, no- but I've started it,” he added, to make himself feel better.

“Well, that's something,” Harry said cheerily. “More than I can say about my Pisano essay, anyway.”

“Well I wouldn’t worry about if I were you,” Zayn told him with a wink, “considering you already made friends with the professor.”

“You know, I wanted to talk to you about that,” Liam cut in, his worry now directed at Harry. “Do you really think it’s a good idea being seen sipping coffee with –

“Just because Nick and I hang out doesn’t mean he’s going to cut me any slack,” Harry cut him off. “And I don’t see why it would be a bad idea, Li.”

Liam frowned heavily, a crease forming between his eyebrows. “People might start to think something more is going on, and both of you might get into trouble.”

“Pretty sure people already think that,” Zayn laughed. “I mean, he’s gay, isn’t he? And don’t even try to tell me he doesn’t want to fuck you.”

Harry shot him a glare. “Shut up, Zayn. It’s not like that. He just gets me, alright? He gets why I prefer working on a piece without making a sketch first, or why I prefer Segal over Rosenthal, or why I never-“

“Ok, we get it. He’s your fucking soul mate,” Zayn snapped, and he didn’t understand why he sounded so annoyed suddenly, because he really  _did_  get it- he loved it when someone could understand his work, when he didn’t have to explain why the sky was purple instead of blue, or get asked why he 'wasted' so much paint on his paintings (“It’s called impasto, you moron”).

Harry didn’t respond, just continued to glare at him, silently wondering what the hell was wrong with him today. 

Zayn got up and went to his room after announcing that he was going to work on his painting some more, but he knew very well that he wasn’t (not that there was anything to be worked on anyway, there were air balloons painted over his assignment). Instead, he listened to some music before falling asleep, trying very hard not to think about the holes in his memory or a pair of concerned brown eyes watching him intently.

Next morning, the three of them went to the cafeteria for breakfast. Zayn was hungry as hell, having skipped dinner the previous night, so he didn’t much appreciate the long line.

Luckily, Liam was feeling cheerful, so he entertained them with the story of Niall’s persistent attempts at eating in classrooms without getting caught- even in vocal trainings. According to Liam he was getting quite good at it, too.

Zayn couldn’t help but wonder why he was the only one of them who couldn’t make friends outside of their little group. Liam had Niall (who seemed like a really nice guy, even though Zayn hadn’t met him yet), Harry had Ed and even Nick (though Zayn wasn’t sure he counted, being a professor and all), while Zayn hadn’t even exchanged phone numbers with anyone from his classes. It was already November, which meant that it’d been three month since they’d started uni.

When it was finally their turn, Zayn grabbed more food than he’d ever end up eating and they found a table at the far end of the cafeteria. 

Zayn had finished eating and was absently sipping on his juice box when he saw a girl trip and fall flat on her face. Everyone around her started laughing, except a few who were asking her if she was okay and helping her get to her feet. Liam and Harry had their backs turned so they managed to take a look only after the girl was already up. When they aimed their gazes back at Zayn, they saw that he'd turned pale, his mouth hanging open in shock.

“Zayn, what's wrong?” Liam demanded, concern high in his voice 

Zayn wasn’t sure how to answer. He'd just witnessed the same scene he had painted three days earlier. The girl was the same, her clothes were the same, the food she carried on her tray, now spread across the tiled floor, was the same, even the expressions of the people walking by were the same. How was it possible?

“You look like you’ve just seen a ghost, man,” Harry said, for once looking almost as worried as Liam.

“I’m okay,“ Zayn assured them after a moment. “I just... I remembered something. I have a... a paper to write for tomorrow that I totally forgot about.” It wasn’t much of an excuse, but it stopped his friends from asking any more questions, at least for the time-being, so Zayn figured it was good enough.

By the end of the day, Zayn sort of managed to get the cafeteria scene out of his mind, at least until he walked out of his room where he’d spent the whole afternoon pretending to be working on the made-up paper, and caught a glimpse of the evening news on the living room TV. They were reporting about an air balloon festival in Scotland, the biggest one in the country, and the screen was filled with picturesque scenes of colourful balloons brightening the sky.

Zayn felt like he might be sick. 

-

Harry hated Tuesdays. He had no free periods between his classes, so by 3 pm when he was finally a free man, he was tired and hungry, and didn’t appreciate it one bit when Ed made him come to some stupid faculty play where he’d probably end up bored to death.

But Harry was a good friend so he didn’t complain too much. He just made Ed buy him a sandwich and agree to leave if the play went on for more than an hour.

Ed wasn’t exactly keen on going for the joy of theatre himself- he had his eyes on one of the actresses and had promised her he’d come.

They snuck in a bit late. Some elderly woman was already announcing the play (Shakespeare’s  _A Midsummer Night’s Dream_ ), so they settled in the back where most of the seats were empty.

Harry remembered reading the play in sixth form, but that didn’t help him much when it came to keeping up with the plot. Pretty soon, he found himself unable to pay attention to who was in love with whom, so he tried to talk to Ed to keep himself from falling asleep.

“So Donna is the one in the green dress, right?”

“Yeah, she’s playing Hermia,” Ed whispered back, and then pressed a finger against his lips to let Harry know he needed to shut up.

Harry figured Ed wanted to pay attention in case Donna asked him something about the play later on, and he had to admit, she seemed like she was worth the trouble. She was very pretty, with her wavy, blonde hair and wide, friendly smile.

When the fairies came out on the stage in act 2, Harry wondered why the hell they were necessary. Wasn’t love already complicated enough without them? But then Oberon, the King of the fairies appeared, and Harry found himself staring at his defined cheekbones and feathery, caramel hair, and he might have, kind of, changed his mind a little bit.

“Who’s that?”

“I think he’s the main fairy, the lady fairy’s husband or something,” Ed said, obviously not paying as much attention when Donna was off the stage.

“No, I know that; I mean who’s the guy playing him?” Harry pressed, trying to sound casual.

“I don’t know.” Ed shrugged. “Why?"

“Just curious,” Harry said, but Ed wasn’t born yesterday.

“You think he’s fit, don’t you?” he asked with a wide grin.

Harry didn’t really see the point in denying it. “Well, yeah. Look at him.”

Not only was he fit, but he seemed so confident on the stage; he ruled it in a way Harry never could. His melodic voice was loud in the small auditorium, bouncing of the walls and filling the space with perfectly pronounced verses.

Ed laughed. “Well, then stay after the play and meet him.”

Harry thought about it for a moment, wondering vaguely whether he’d have a chance. The young man seemed intense, all bounding energy and loud laughs, and his mere presence was electrifying. Harry wasn’t sure he could measure up.

“I can’t,” he finally answered. “I have to go home and work on my art history essay.”

Ed gave him an amused, knowing look.  “I’m sure Grimmy won’t mind if you’re a day late.”

Harry kicked his foot, and Ed cried out in pain. A few other audience members turned around to glare at the two of them before turning their attention back to the stage.

“Don’t you fucking start with that, too,” Harry hissed sternly. “You know that Nick could actually have a problem if people start taking those rumours seriously.”

“I was kidding,” Ed assured him meekly. “There’s no need for violence.”

Harry laughed at Ed’s exaggerated expression of pain, and then directed his attention at the stage once more because the good-looking fairy was still there, putting some magical juice on his wife's eyelids to get her to fall in love with him or something, and for a moment Harry wished he could get his hands on a bit of that flowery juice, too.

Harry walked home alone, Ed having stayed behind to meet up with Donna, and wondered if him not staying behind as well was a mistake. He struggled with that thought until he entered the apartment and saw Zayn at the kitchen table, a bottle of Vodka in front of him. What was up with him these last few days?

“Drinking alone?”

“Not if you join me,” Zayn said and pulled out a chair for him.

Harry sat down, but when Zayn got him a shot glass and handed him the bottle, Harry pushed it away.

“I have an essay to write,” he said as an excuse. “And I think it'll turn out better if I do it sober.”

“Suit yourself,” Zayn said and poured the content of his own glass down his throat.

“Where's Liam?” Harry asked. If Zayn was getting wasted in the middle of the day, it meant their brown-eyed friend wasn't around.

“Don't know,” Zayn muttered. “Don't care.”

“That's a lie if I ever heard one,” Harry laughed, though he wasn't sure there was anything funny about it.

Zayn didn’t seem to find it funny either. “Why  _would_  I care? Why would I give a shit about anything?”

“Because you do,” Harry stated simply. “There's no need for you to pretend that you don’t. Now, are you drunk enough to honestly tell me what's wrong?”

“No.” He filled his glass again. “Nothing's wrong,” he added, turning to Harry. “Except everything is.”

“Well, thank you for clearing that up,” Harry said sarcastically, and that seemed to break through Zayn’s black mood because he barked a loud laugh.

“You wouldn't believe me.”

Harry raised his eyebrows in challenge. “Try me.”

“I'd rather not,” Zayn responded slowly, sinking his head down to the table and cradling it in his crossed arms.

“Come on, Zayn, you can tell me anything, you know that,” Harry pressed, knocking his shoulder against Zayn’s in a little sign of encouragement.

“I can't. You'll tell Liam,” Zayn said, making it sound as if there was nothing worse in the world. “You tell Liam everything.”

“I do not!” Harry complained, looking offended. “I haven't told him you're in love with him, have I?”

“I'm not fucking in love with him! Fuck you!” Zayn snapped, lifting his head up and glaring so fiercely that Harry physically withdrew a bit.

“I need a shower,” he added when Harry didn't respond, and got up to head towards the bathroom.

Harry noticed that he was a bit unsteady on his feet and wondered exactly how much he’d drank when he was alone. He also tried to think of a reason for why Zayn was acting like this all of a sudden, but the only one that came to mind was the boy Zayn just lied about being in love with.

He’d known Zayn’s feelings for Liam ever since the three of them met in high school, but Zayn had decidedly ignored them, tried to bury them, which in turn only made them grow stronger.

Harry tried his best not to interfere. He’d thought that all the pieces would fall in place and that soon he would be able to say that his two best friends were happy and in love. But four years had passed and that hadn't happened- and as much as Zayn tried to hide it, Harry could see that it hurt him. It hurt him to see Liam dating pretty girls, to hug him like a friend while knowing that was as far as things could go, to pretend to be interested in other people when all he wanted to do was to curl up next to Liam and feel like his love could bring him something other than pain.

Most of the time, Harry thought that Liam felt the same, but he’d been more successful at burying the feelings, and that made him wonder why the hell the two of them didn’t just fess up to it so that Zayn could stop moping around.

But there were times when he wasn't sure, when Liam's eyes had sparkled a little too much while talking about some girl he fancied, or when he treated Zayn a little too much like he treated Harry, and this option was even worse, because it meant that the sadness in Zayn's eyes would remain a permanent resident.

His mind went back to the fairies then, and he thought about how maybe they didn’t have to make love more complicated (as it was already complicated enough)- maybe they could make it simpler.

Of course, he couldn’t think about those fairies without thinking about the fit guy who’d played the fairy king, and his smile, and his sparkling eyes, and about how good his arse looked in those fairy tights.

Harry had to get him out of his mind. He probably wouldn’t even see him again- after all, he was most likely majoring in drama, which meant that he had classes on a different side of campus. And even if Harry  _did_  see him, he wouldn’t have the courage to do anything about it, so why let himself hope?

He went to his room then, deciding it was finally time to get started on that essay. After turning on his laptop and getting his books out, it turned out that concentrating on the description of the Pulpit of the Pisa baptistery wasn’t an easy task when his mind was still half fixed on trying to figure out a way to help Zayn and half on the fairy king.

When he was about a 1000 words in (and very proud of that fact) he heard music coming from the living room, and after a few more seconds of listening he recognized the song as “All in All” by Lifehouse, and one of the voices as Liam’s. He stepped out of his room to find Liam by his piano and a blond boy sitting next to him, a guitar in his hands.

When Liam saw him, he smiled and gestured for him to join them in the song, but Harry never quite liked singing in front of people so he settled for listening on the couch.

“This is Niall,” Liam said as soon as they finished the song, and Harry wasn’t surprised. He’d figured as much from all the stories Liam had told over the past few months.

“Harry,” Harry offered as an introduction and shook the blonde boy’s hand.

“Nice to meet you, man; I heard a lot about you,” Niall said in his thick Irish accent, a very sincere smile on his face.

“Yeah, you too,” Harry answered, and meant it – he already felt like he knew the boy and liked him quite a bit.

“Hey, where’s Zayn?” Liam asked suddenly.

“I thought he was in his room,” Harry said, going to peer through his door just to make sure. The room was empty.

“No, he’s not there,” Liam replied, and Harry could tell that Liam was worried again, only this time Harry couldn’t tell him that there was no need to be. The afternoon drinking episode was still fresh in Harry’s mind.

“He’s been acting strange, hasn’t he?” Liam asked quietly, and Harry wondered if he should tell him about what he’d come home to. He decided not to- after all, Zayn was wrong – Harry didn’t tell Liam everything.

“A bit, yeah,” he agreed.

Liam got lost in his thoughts for a minute, and Niall used the time to invite Harry to a party he and his cousin were having on Friday. 

“Liam says he isn’t sure he’ll come, but you should convince him to,” Niall said, getting all excited just talking about it, “And you should bring Zayn, too! Maybe that’ll cheer him up a bit, yeah?” 

Harry doubted that last bit, but still, a party couldn’t hurt, could it? “We’ll be there, don’t worry,” he said, smiling brightly. “Liam included.” 

Liam shot him a reprimanding look, but Harry ignored it. 

“There’ll be lots of people,” Niall rambled on. “I think Louis invited like 40 people already, and if even half of them bring someone with them, there’ll be less room to move about than in an immigrant smuggler’s trunk.” 

“That sounds lovely,” Liam commented dryly. 

“Wait, Louis is your cousin, right?” Harry asked, wanting to keep up, because if there really would be so many people there, it’d be nice to get a jump on names.

“Yeah, he’s great; you’ll like him,” Niall assured him, and Harry thought that if he was anything like Niall, who seemed like one of the friendliest people imaginable, it would be impossible to dislike him.

-

_PRECOGNITIVE ARTISTRY_

_The power to predict the future through visual art. A sub-power of both Precognition and Enchanted  Artistry. Also called Precognitive illustration._

Zayn was hunched over his laptop, wondering why the hell he couldn’t get a power like teleportation or telekinesis if he was already destined to be a freak of nature. Something cool and useful, instead of something confusing and frustrating would have been nice.

He closed the Superpower Wiki tab and opened his e-mail in a new one. With the way things were going there was no chance he would finish the painting for his project by the death line, so he might as well ask his professor for more time. He’ll probably say no, but it was worth a try.

When he finished writing a not so convincing excuse and hit send, he closed his laptop and approached the easel that held the latest work he couldn’t recall painting. It was the one that worried him the most, not only because it was amongst the two that still hadn’t came true (at least not that he knew of), but also because it showed the future of someone he knew very well.

It was a picture of Harry snogging some shorter, brown-haired guy (Zayn wasn’t exactly sorry he couldn’t remember painting that one) in an empty hallway.

If the things were the other way around, and Harry was the freaky painter and Zayn the one featured in the painting, he wouldn’t want to know anything about it. He’s always believed that living in the moment was the way to go, so why would he want to know what was going to happen before it actually did?  But he knew Harry through and out, and he knew that he  _would_  want to know.

But he couldn’t tell him, because if the things were the other way around, he wouldn’t believe Harry.

All of these things ran through his mind for what was probably the thousandth time as he stared at the canvas - at the realistic features of the two boys, the ideally created shadows of Harry’s rumpled shirt, the smooth lines that outlined their bodies and the Persian blue and Lavender colours of their clothing that somehow fitted together perfectly.

Zayn walked to his bed, sat on the edge of it, and covered his face with his hands. This was not the painting he should marvel the techniques of, there were plenty of others he could use for that, even though he really shouldn’t have used any at all. He had promised himself he wouldn’t stress about the superiority of these foreseeing artwork over his usual one (and how that meant that he had that amount of talent in him all along, but somehow couldn’t get it out in normal terms), there was a range  of other things to worry about he could have his pick at.

“And what’s wrong with I’m wearing now?” Liam’s voice from the living room interrupted his thoughts, followed by Harry’s loud bark of laugh.

“It’s superman, Li, you just don’t wear a superman t-shirt to a party,” Harry choked out, still laughing, and Zayn imagined that that must be because of the adorably confused expression Liam must have been pulling of, the one he always did when other people found strange something that he deemed perfectly normal. Zayn found himself chuckling a little just at the thought of it. He got up, turned the easel he was looking at a moment ago so that it faced the wall, and walked to the living room.

“You’re wearing a blazer, man. With a  _pocket square_. You’re not the one to talk,” he told Harry, tapping him on the shoulder for a good measure.

Liam gave him a grateful look, but Zayn could only keep the eye contact for a second before he had to look away.

“Details are important, didn’t anyone taught you that?” Harry shot back.

“You sound gay,” Zayn responded, sitting on a couch next to him.

Harry looked between him and Liam meaningfully; his eyebrows raised and asked “Do I?”

Zayn thought he went a little far, and he would have pushed him of a couch or slapped his head or something, but that would probably make Liam’s eyes appear even more baffled. So instead he got up, grabbed Liam car keys, threw them over to him and announced that it’s time to go.

Zayn wasn’t really up for a party, but he figured that it would give him an excuse to get fucked up and forget about everything without the boys judging him, so he’d agreed to come.

Niall’s place was already packed when they got there, and Zayn was still melting in joy caused by a sea of unfamiliar faces, when an excited, blonde boy that Zayn figured must be Niall himself jumped in front of them.

He hugged them all, even Zayn, who he was seeing for the first time, and basically dragged them towards the kitchen where he handed each of them a beer, grabbing one for himself as well.

“I can’t drink, remember Niall?” Liam said, but Niall pushed the bottle into his hands anyway, so Liam took hold of it reluctantly.

“Nice place,” Harry commented, looking around the rather tiny kitchen with pale green walls.

“No, it’s not,” Niall laughed, “It’s a fucking dumb, but who cares?” He made a weird hand gesture, as to show that he definitely doesn’t, and almost knocked out the beer out of Harry’s hand.

“Oi, Josh!” he yelled then suddenly, spotting a short, brown-haired boy in the crowd.

Josh pushed his way towards them, and Niall put an arm around his shoulders, “Josh meet people, people meet Josh.”

Josh shook hands with Harry and Zayn, having already met Liam (a little fact that Niall, in his drunken state, has forgotten). Liam was still standing there, not knowing what to do with the bottle in his hands, so Zayn decided to be merciful and free him of it.

Liam noticed that his own bottle was already empty and gave him a look that was judging and grateful at the same time, so Zayn decided that he needed to get away from him if he was going to follow on his plan of forgetting about everything tonight.

He left the kitchen and got lost in the sea of people. He felt a little irritated that the music wasn’t loud enough to shut out any coherent thought in his head, but he figured that the reason behind it was that Niall and his cousin didn’t want their neighbours to file a noise complaint to the police, which was pretty understandable and not something he could complain about.

Some girls invited him to do tequila shots with them and he accepted gladly, enjoying the burning sensation the liquor caused in his throat.

It didn’t take long until he started to feel the other effects of it as well, the familiar numbness in his limbs, the blurriness of his sight, the  _no fucks given_  mode of his brain. He stumbled back to the kitchen to get another drink. There were still a lot of people there, two of them being Ed and some pretty blonde girl, making out on the counter.

He had to walk past them to get to the fridge, and Ed obviously noticed him because as he was opening his beer can he heard him shout “Malik! Did you see Harry?”

“Not since we’ve got here,” Zayn answered, louder than necessary.

“Well, if you do, tell him that his fairy is here.”

“What?” Was Ed high?

“The fairy king is at the party. And tell him he better do something about it this time,” Ed said and waved at him clumsily as he lead the blonde girl out of the kitchen.

“Sure,I’ll tell him,” Zayn called after him. ”I have no fucking idea what it means, but I’ll tell him.”

He decided to go find a couch or something, there must be some place to sit at this damn party, but when he reached the door frame he saw Liam talking to some dark-haired latino girl, smiling at her charmingly while she smiled back at him, their hands brushing together in way that could have been accidental, but Zayn concluded that it most certainly wasn’t.

It wasn’t fair, he wasn’t supposed to care. He was drunk, which meant that he shouldn’t care about anything, especially not Liam and who he’s smiling at.

He wanted to punch himself for being so pathetic, when he felt someone else punch him in the shoulder as he stormed pass him.

“Sorry, mate,” that someone said with a sincere smile and slightly too shiny eyes, and Zayn thought he knew him for somewhere. “I’m just in a real need of another beer.”

“There’s none left,” Zayn said, his voice sounding a bit off. “I got the last one.” He lifted the can in his hands as an evidence to prove his words.

“No, no, no, you just think you did, love,” the boy with shiny eyes said, “we’ve got a pretty little stock hidden  _right_  here.” He opened a cabinet next to the fridge and pulled out a six pack, taking one beer for himself and handing another one to Zayn. 

“Not very cold, but it’ll do. I’m Louis by the way, nice to meet you, you broody last beer thief.”

Zayn frowned a little bit at the nickname, but took his hand nonetheless, “I’’m Zayn.”

“Oh you’re Liam’s friend, right? I met Harry, nice lad, and they told me there was another one of you.”

Zayn barely had the time the mumble a quick “Yeah,” before Louis continued “He was looking for you, you know. Liam, I mean.”

“I doubt that,” Zayn answered. “He looked like he was doing just fine when saw him. So are you Niall’s cousin then?”

“Yes, one and only,” Louis said, but then  quickly added, “well not really, we have this other cousin, but he’s gone to Turkey to look for two-headed aliens, so he sort of isn’t around. Oh, are you the painter? Or the sculpurist? I’m not sure who is which.”

“I paint, Harry sculptures...if that’s even a word.”

“It sounds like it is. So he must be good with his hands then, ha?” Louis asked, smirking.

“I guess,” Zayn said but then froze because it suddenly hit him why Louis looked so familiar. He was the one in the painting with Harry, snogging him in a hallway. No wonder he was making such comments about Harry’s hands. He laughed because the situation really was funny in a way, but at the same time he felt like screaming, because the two problems he wanted so desperately to escape tonight both came haunting him, and it seemed like there wasn’t an amount of alcohol that could have helped him outrun them.

“I should go, I promised itsy bitsy Nialler that I’ll bring him a beer. You want to come with?” Louis said, heading for the door already.

“No thanks, I think I’m going to go find Harry actually.”

It didn’t take Zayn long to spot his curly head in the crowd. He was leaning on the wall near the front door, having a conversation with a group of people around him, but not looking like he was paying much attention. When he noticed him, he whirled out of the little circle, and appeared by his side in a matter of seconds, asking “Where did you run of to?”

“No where,” Zayn answered immediately. “Listen, Haz, if I tell you something, to you promise you’ll believe me and not think I’m crazy or insane or just trying to mess with you?

“Well, it’s not like you ever mess with me, right?”

“Not the point now, Styles.”

“Ok, sure, yeah, I promise to believe you.”

“And you mustn’t tell Liam, okay? That’s a very important part of this agreement thing.”

“Don’t tell Liam. Got it”, Harry said, pointing a finger, but Zayn noticed that his glare was directed somewhere behind him.

“What are you looking at?” he asked and turned around to see Niall, Louis, Josh and a few other people standing there, singing along to a Red Hot Chilli peppers song that was blasting out of the speakers. “Are you staring at that Louis guy?”

“You met him?” Harry wondered, finally seeming interested in the conversation.

“Yeah, listen-“ Zayn began but Harry, who was still undressing the blue-eyed boy with his eyes, cut him off.

“You know, I saw him at that play Ed dragged me to, but had no idea he was Niall’s cousin.”

“Ok, whatever, now listen- Wait- Is he the fairy person?

“Yeah, how do you know that?

Zayn barked out a loud laugh, “Ed mentioned him before, he said I need to tell you to do something about him.”

“I can’t, Zayn, he makes me so fucking nervous,” Harry said, lowering his voice. “You should have seen me when Niall introduced me, I’m pretty sure he thinks I’m retarded.”

“I’m pretty sure he doesn’t.”

“Why? Did he say something?”

“Yes, but well, there something else. Something I’ve been trying to tell you but you keep distracting me,” Zayn said through his teeth.

“Sorry, go ahead now, I’m all ears.”

“You and Louis are going to get together. Or at least your tongues are going to get together, I’m not sure if you’ll actually have a relationship thing or not.”

“What?” Harry shot out, looking bewildered. “Did you set something up? Are you crazy? I swear-“

“Would you shut up and fucking listen? I didn’t set anything up, I know this because I painted it, because apparently I can paint the future and it’s been freaking me out,” Zayn professed and realized how good it felt to finally tell someone. 

Harry burst into laughter, his head rolling back in amusement. “How much did you drink, Zayn? Or are you high? I don’t think I smelled anyone lighting a joint but maybe-“

“You promised, you twat,” Zayn refreshed his memory.

Harry just continued laughing, so Zayn said “I’ll prove it to you tomorrow. Just remind me in the morning, okay?”

“Okay,” he agreed with too much ease. “But can we now focus on the believable part of this story? What did he tell you about me?”

Zayn rolled his eyes at his friend.  “God, you sound like a 13 year old girl.”

“Well, you sound like a bloody lunatic, but you don’t see me pointing it out.”

Zayn sighed and decided to not remind him of the part where he was laughing hysterically at him. “He asked me if you’re good with your hands.”

Harry smiled widely, his eyes displaying happiness and panic all at once. “He did??”

“Yeah, and I said that you’re great because you practice on yourself every day.”

“You asshole,” Harry shouted and punched him in the shoulder, but he was still smiling maniacally.

Zayn twisted his face in an exaggerated grimace, before pointing his head in Louis’ direction and asking “So are you going to go there and talk to him or can we go home?”

Harry spared a quick glance at the actor again, and Zayn could see in the way he was fidgeting with his hands that that boy really did make him nervous. “Let’s go,” Harry decided. “Should we find Liam?" 

“I don’t think he wants to leave quite yet.”

“You saw him?” Harry asked, and Zayn knew that what he was actually asking was  _You saw him with her?_

“Yes,” Zayn responded and apparently his tone made it clear to Harry that he didn’t want to talk about it, because he asked no further questions. 

During the cab ride back home, Harry fell asleep and Zayn wondered how he was going to make him believe something he had serious trouble believing himself. He also wondered if there was any aspirin in the bathroom cupboard left, because he had a feeling he’s going to need some in the morning.

 


	2. a risk i'd take, a choice i'd make

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a little bit rushed and it's shorter than I had it planned, but I hope you enjoy it anyway.

The bright sunlight blasting through the widely open blinds of his window made Harry wished he had enough sense last night to close them up. Or at least, that he had enough strength to get up and close them now.

But since he had neither, he was laying in his bed, the blanket stretched over his head to protect his sensitive eyes from those hostile rays of sun. When he felt like he might suffocate, he finally gathered the courage to peer from under it and check the alarm clock on his bedside.

It was 2 pm, but he felt like he hadn’t slept at all. He got up slowly, squinting his eyes and went straight for the kitchen to get some water because his mouth felt dry as hell.

He found Liam there, sipping a coffee at the kitchen table, wishing him a good morning with a sympathetic smile on his face.

“Morning, Li,” Harry murmured back and downed a glass of water he had just filled, filling it again straight away.

“You guys left me there yesterday. That was rude,” Liam said, but his anger was nonexistent in his features and instead his lips were still stretched in a smile, which got even bigger when he read a text his phone just alerted him of.

Harry ignored his comment, and asked “Who’re you texting?”, his curiosity getting the best of him.

“Rose,” Liam said, and when Harry gave him a look that clearly stated he had no idea who that is, he added “That girl I met last night, you met her too, you should know who I’m talking about.”

Harry then remembered the pretty, tan-skinned girl Liam was flirting with all through the party. He felt a slight sting of guilt from already disliking the poor girl, when he could barely recall meeting her. He knew he’ll probably try to avoid her as much as he’ll be able to, just like he did with any other girl Liam dated. If he didn’t get to know her too well, then he wouldn’t feel like a terrible person for blaming her for every empty glare of Zayn’s eyes.

“Oh yeah, the brunette in the green dress. You two are already texting?” Harry asked, trying not to let the disapproval reach his voice.

“Yeah, she’s great. I’m really glad you convinced me to not miss the party. Thanks for that, Haz.”

“Sure, I’m glad I convinced you, too,” Harry lied, biting his lip to stop himself from saying anything else.

Liam smiled and Harry concluded that he was getting quite good at lying to Liam. He wasn’t sure if he liked that.

“You know, Niall and his cousin really liked you and Zayn, they kept saying the five of us should meet up next week,” Liam said and it took Harry a couple of moments until the words “his cousin” and “Zayn” made him remember the ending of the yesterday’s party.

“His cousin... you mean Louis? Of fuck! Louis!” Harry cried out and Liam looked at him quizzically.

“Zayn!” Harry then shouted and got up to go and wake his roommate up, but half way to his bedroom he remembered that Liam was right there.

And that he isn’t supposed to know anything.

Liam was still sitting there looking at him with wide eyes, so Harry tried to be nonchalant about it. He sat back in his chair and said something like “Sorry, I just remembered something. Doesn’t really matter...” and Liam didn’t buy it, but he acted like he did - and that was enough for Harry.

When an hour later Zayn finally woke up, Harry made up some excuse about a Michelangelo paper he needed Zayn’s help with, so he dragged him to his room, away from Liam’s _not allowed to hear_ ears.

“So do you have a proof or was that just drunk talk?” Harry asked as soon as he closed the door.

“It’s too early for this, Harry,” Zayn said, messaging his temples and Harry concluded that those two aspirins he’d taken hadn’t kicked in yet.

“It’s the middle of afternoon.”

“It’s Saturday.”

“So you were just fucking with me?”

“No, I wasn’t,” Zayn sighed exasperatedly.

“Then show it to me! C’mon Zayn, please!” Harry insisted, and he didn’t even care that he sounded like a whiny five-year old. This was the most exciting thing that had happened to him since he and Nick had sneaked into the Tate after closing hours.

“Fine,” Zayn finally agreed, “but we have to go to my room.”

When Zayn showed him the painting of the girl who’s fallen down in the cafeteria, Harry wasn’t really convinced.

When he showed him the painting featuring a forest fire and asked him to remember last week’s news when they showed a report on a wildfire in Scotland unusual for this time of the year, Harry sort of believed him, but still had his doubts.

When he showed him a painting of him and Louis and answered his question about whether he ever saw Louis before last night with a determined “No”, Harry knew that he was telling the truth.

He could see the annoyed look on Zayn’s face that was probably due to the fact that the painting that convinced him was only one that hadn’t came true yet, but he ignored it because under the annoyance there was also a lot of gratitude and relief that he believed him at all.

“So is this the reason you’ve been all grumpy and depressed lately?” Harry asked him, still staring at the easel holding the painting of Louis and him.

“Yes,” Zayn answered. “I mean, what the hell is this? Do you know how frustrated I’m becoming?”

“I don’t really get why, I think this is really cool.”

“That’s because you’re a bloody idiot.”

“Fuck you,” Harry said, but he laughed loudly as he did so. Zayn didn’t join him though, so Harry bit his lip and asked “So did you paint anything else that hadn’t come true?”

“Just this,” Zayn said, pulling out a canvas from underneath his bed and placing it on the smaller of his two easels. “But I have no idea what it means.”

Harry looked at a painting that didn’t unveil much – it was mostly black with what looked like a flash of lights in the middle of it. Just above the lights there was a faint trace of a sign, but Hary could only make out three letters: _TRA_.

“Weird,” Harry commented, turning away from the easel to look at Zayn, who was standing behind him with an empty stare and a contemplating expression.

“Yeah,” Zayn responded but Harry wasn’t sure if he heard him at all.

He decided to change the subject.

“You know what this means right?” Harry said, unable to keep the grin of his face.

“That there’s something seriously wrong with me?” Zayn asked, but it sounded more like a conclusion than a question.

“No,” Harry responded promptly.“It means that I can ask Louis out.”

“And you couldn’t do that otherwise because...”

“Because I would be too scared. But now that I know he’ll say yes, there’s nothing to be scared about.”

“You’re so fucked up, man,” Zayn said, laying down on his bed and covering his face with his hands.

“Look who’s talking,” Harry retorted, laying down next to him and elbowing him in the ribs lightly.

Zayn ignored his comment and his kick and he removed his hands from his face before he looked at him a little reluctantly and voiced a quiet “Harry?”

“Yeah?”

“Did Liam mention that girl from last night to you?”

“No,” Harry lied but Zayn was much harder to lie to that Liam was. He didn’t even need to say nothing - he just raised his eyebrows and Harry knew he hadn’t fooled him.

“He said she was great,” he said with a sigh. “He didn’t mention anything about seeing her again, though,” he then added, like that meant that everything was okay.

“Of course he did,” Zayn said and Harry pretended he hadn’t noticed how he clenched his hands into fists.

He reached out and hugged him, burying his head into the crook of his neck and Zayn sighed loudly but hugged him back, muttering a “Thank you” into his ear a few moments later.

Harry spent that afternoon with Nick (just like every other Saturday for the last two months), visiting a gallery Nick’s friend had opened a week before, one that Nick was desperate to show Harry because “it has one of the most intriguing cotemporary sculpture exhibition I’ve seen lately. _”_

Harry was pretty excited about it, too (and not really because contemporary art was his favourite but because seeing exhibitions with Nick was his favourite – Nick never failed to tell him a story about the artist and how a certain piece of art came to be, even if he had absolutely no idea and had to use his imagination a lot).

After the gallery they went to their favourite coffee shop – Corney’s, and as they sat there while Nick had tea and Harry had a latte, Nick told him all about his endeavours from last night.

Harry wondered if he should share his own exciting news, but since he didn’t want Zayn to strangle him when he found out he told Nick his little secret, he decided to tell him only about Louis.

“So I met someone last night,” he started and he didn’t know why he started to feel all jittery – it was just Nick after all, he could talk to him about anything.

“Oh yeah?” Nick asked, smirking.”Is that why you’re being all cheerful today? Finally got some?”

It was time like this that Harry totally forgot that Nick was his professor – which wasn’t a bad thing by itself, but made him get strange looks in class when he laughed at some inappropriate reference Nick made that only Harry could make sense of.

“No,” Harry said. “It’s not like that. I think I really like this guy, which is crazy, because I barely know him, but I do have a good feeling about him.”

“That _is_ crazy,” Nick agreed and grinned at him filthily. “At least fuck him first before jumping to such ludicrous conclusions.”

“It’s not ludicrous, you pathetic excuse for a mentor. Next time I see him, I’m asking him out.”

“You go for it, Styles,” Nick said, raising his cup of tea in a mimic of a cheers. Harry mumbled a quick “I will” before Nick changed the subject and they went back to talking about the new James Bond movie and Peter Randall-Page and Nick’s new _modern art = I could do that + yeah, but you didn’t_ t-shirt that Harry begged him to wear to class on Monday.

Nick kissed him on the cheek when he dropped him off at his apartment and Harry wasn’t even surprised. He walked up the stairs and when he unlocked the front door, he found the living room a little more crowded that he’d expected.

He froze as he saw Louis launching on the couch lazily, his feet in Niall’s lap. Liam was sitting in the armchair and they were all watching Home alone on TV. And Harry was pretty sure that it was Home alone 4, which made next to no sense because it’s the worst one.

“Hey, Haz,” Liam greeted him and the other two pointed their very similar grins his way. “Want to join us?”

It took Harry a moment before he could let out a sound. He was staring at Louis – at his fitted white t-shirt, red sweat pants and bare feet – and he was having trouble comprehending that he was in his apartment, looking like he owned the fucking place.

“Isn’t it a little too early for Christmas movies?” he finally voiced out, letting out an awkward laugh (and well, so much for not being nervous and scared because he knew Louis must like him back).

“It’s never too early for Christmas movies,” Louis said and Harry concluded that he highly underestimated the beauty of his voice yesterday.

“Alright. Let’s me just...uhmm...change and I’ll be right back,” Harry said and headed towards his room, but then he remembered something and turned back.

“Is Zayn in his room?” he asked Liam, who answered him without taking his eyes off of the screen.

“No, he’s out.”

“Oh...Okay,” Harry said and he freaked out a little in his head, because who’s he supposed to talk to about the illogical fact that he’s still nervous as hell around this fucking guy.

He returned to the living room a few moments and a few handfuls of water splashed in his face later, with a banana in his one hand and an apple in his other.

Eating fruit calmed him down.

Niall and Louis gave him quizzical looks when they saw him, but they didn’t say anything. Louis got into a sitting position to make room for him, and Harry had no choice but to squeeze into between him and Niall.

“How’s Nick?” Liam asked as Harry started biting on his apple.

“He’s fine,” Harry managed to say in between bites.

“Who’s Nick?” Louis wondered, turning to him with a curious expression and Harry froze with his hand holding the apple half way towards his mouth.

“My friend”, “His professor,” Harry and Liam said at the same time, and Niall laughed and Louis smirked.

“He’s both,” Harry explained.

“Nice,” Louis said.

“Yeah, it is.”

Louis laughed “You’re almost as innocent as Liam. This is going to be fun.”

Harry didn’t think he was that innocent at all, but if that’s what floats Louis’ boat, Harry could play along.

“Hey,” Liam complained, but before Louis could say anything, Niall cut in.

“Would you shut it, cunts, I’m trying to watch this.”

Harry started on his banana then, and he felt quite uncomfortable eating it right besides Louis, especially when Louis was sparing glances at him every few moments, chuckling a little every time he did so. It also reminded him what he had told Nick about inviting Louis out.

The only problem was that when he said that, he really had no idea that he was going to see him so soon.

-

Zayn wasn’t pleased with himself one bit. It was only 9 pm and he was already drunk. And he was pretty sure he was still hungover from last night.

So he was drunk and hungover and a little bit depressed and it wasn’t a good combination.

He smiled at the blonde in a leather mini skirt that has been staring at him for the last 10 minutes because he knew what was it like to not be wanted back and he was living in the moment and forgot to think about what he would say to her if she came over.

 Which is why 15 minutes and two shots later, he found himself fucking her in the bathroom that smelled of piss and vomit and the fact that he didn’t even mind the smell worried him a bit.

The girl, Lydia or Lynn or something like that then dragged him to this club downtown he’s never been to before. They met up with some of her friends, and they drank some more, and soon after he found himself in another smelly bathroom, fucking her again.

Sometime around 2 am, while Lydia or Lynn or something like that was on the dance floor with one of her friends, Zayn snuck out, got a cab and went home.

He struggled with the key for a while, twisting and pushing it, but it just wouldn’t get in. So he gave up and started knocking his fist on the door.

When Liam opened it a few moments later, all drowsy eyes and rumbled hair, he gave him one of those scrutinizing looks that Zayn hated.

Zayn staggered inside, tried to take his shoes off and failed miserably. He hit the floor with his back, and when Liam tried to give him a hand, he pushed away his efforts, mumbling something about how he can fucking get up himself.

Liam pulled him up anyway and helped him take his shoes off. He led him to his bedroom and helped him get out of his jeans and Zayn laughed hysterically throughout the whole deal because it was just so fucking ironic.

Liam tucked him in and his face was the last thing Zayn saw before drifting to sleep.

It was also the first thing he saw in the morning because Liam woke him up by shaking him like a maniac.

Zayn would’ve considered hitting him in the face for it, but his face was just too pretty to be messed around with like that.

“Mmm... what?” he mumbled, closing his eyes again because his eyelids felt like they weighed a ton.

“I thought we could get some pancakes,” he heard Liam say and there was a hint of an apology in his voice and it was just _so_ Liam.

“What time is it?” Zayn asked, pulling the blanket over his head.

“It’s 1. A little late for pancakes but we’ll manage.”

“Is Harry coming?”

“No, just you and me,” Liam answered and that was all it took for Zayn to gather enough strength and get out of bed because he hasn’t spend some quality time with Liam alone for a while and he didn’t even care if Liam was doing it out of pity or because he was worried about him.

All that mattered was that Liam was there when Zayn fell asleep and he was there when he woke up and that’s how Zayn always wanted it to be.

They went to their favourite pancake house that was three blocks away from their apartment, and Zayn was grateful that Liam managed to wait with his questions and lessons until he came to his senses and got some food and coffee into his system.

Liam even attempted small talk in the mean time and that was always entertaining – especially when he asked him about art and then pretended that he actually understood a word of what Zayn was saying.

This time he went for movies instead, and Zayn was grateful for that too, because talking about his paintings wasn’t exactly his favourite thing since they’ve turned into a future telling device.

When they’ve both emptied their plates, Liam obviously concluded that he’s given him enough time.

“So where were you last night?”

“Out,” Zayn said simply.

He thought about mentioning the blonde to him but he remembered that jealousy only worked if you’re actually interested in someone.

Liam gave him one of those smiles that wasn’t actually a smile and he took a sip of his cocoa and Zayn could see that he was thinking about what to say next.

“Do you want to tell me what’s wrong?” Liam settled for in the end.

“Nothing’s wrong,” Zayn responded immediately. Those three words were becoming sort of a catch phrase of his. He tried not to think about how depressing that was.

“C’mon Zayn, Harry’s not the only one you can talk to. There are other people who care about you, too.”

Zayn could hear the hurt in his voice and he didn’t like it.

He didn’t like the pain Liam sometimes caused him, but that scenario was a thousand times more acceptable than the one in which the roles were reversed.

“I know,” he said with as much sincerity he could master. “But there’s really nothing to tell. I’m just having a bad few weeks I guess.”

“Well getting drunk all the time won’t fix that.”

“I know, Liam, trust me – I know.”

“Okay. Then maybe you could cut that down a bit,” Liam said and then added with a weird kind of chuckle “find a new hobby.

“Yeah,” Zayn agreed. “Maybe I’ll try painting or something.”

“That sounds like a plan,” Liam commended and Zayn smiled at him, pretending that Liam’s answering smile held more honesty than his own.

But he wasn’t sure it did.

As they walked home, Liam told him about how Niall and Louis stopped by yesterday and how Harry  later told him that he asked Louis out while he and Niall drove to pick up Niall’s guitar and he also slapped himself for not remembering to mention this earlier.

Zayn felt genuinely happy for Harry but also a little freaked out because that meant that another one of his paintings is most probably going to come true.

He had no way of knowing that just a day later he’ll buy the newspaper like every other day, turn to page 5 and see a headline saying _5 people dead after the bus driver passed out_ and read that it happened in France right before the bus was supposed to enter a tunnel and see the picture of the bus with a front sign that says Trans’bus and think that he’s going to have to keep that hobby of his that Liam doesn’t like a little bit longer.

-

Harry felt good because he had spent half of Sunday in the workshop and he’s managed to finish the clay bust he needed to do for his class and also because next Friday he was going out with Louis.

He still wasn’t sure how he managed to gather up enough courage to ask him out on Saturday but somehow he did (and he didn’t even sound too desperate or anything – he just invited him to see a movie together and Louis said “sure” and Harry thought that that was a good response).

He was happy, so when he saw Zayn smoking weed in his room on Monday evening he joined him because getting high when you feel good is even better than getting high when you feel like shit.

Zayn was already a little bit gone by then, but Harry didn’t mind – stoned Zayn was hilarious.

“Did you know that I used to have a parrot when I was like-“ Zayn raised his hand about a foot from the floor he was sitting on “-this big?

“So when you were still a fetus?”

“Yes,” Zayn agreed. “I was very little. And this parrot was very big. And I guess – because I was, you know, little and stupid – I thought it was a dog.”

“You thought your parrot was a dog?” Harry asked, picturing this really freaky looking parrot with a head of a German shepherd.

“Yes. And I tried to play catch with it.” Zayn threw the sock lying next to him across the room to illustrate to Harry what playing catch means. “And I threw one of those little Santa lollipops for it to catch it.”

Harry couldn’t hold his laughter any longer and when Zayn saw him laughing he laughed, too.

“Well, anyway,” Zayn continued after they both finished throwing their heads back and choking on air, “the parrot flew after it and never came back.”

Harry laughed even harder now. “And that’s your story? That’s pathetic, man.”

“It’s not pathetic! It’s sad, alright? That parrot could’ve been an amazing dog and it instead it threw all of it away.”

“Maybe it would’ve been sad if it was true,” Harry said and rolled up another joint for them because he was really falling behind.

“It _is_ true. His name was Steven and he made me happy, okay? He feathers were blue, midnight blue, something like-“ Zayn looked all around his room to try and find something of the similar colour. Harry concluded that he couldn’t find anything because he got up and roamed around his box with paint, pulling out one of the tubes. He squeezed a decent amount of blue paint in his hand, and then brushed his hands together to distribute it. He pushed his hands into Harry’s face saying ”blue like this” and Harry leaned back to keep Zayn from turning him into a smurf.

Zayn pulled back, looking like he just thought of a brightest idea ever, and he told Harry to pull out one of the blank canvases from underneath his bed.

Harry did as he was told because he was still scared of being turned into a smurf. When he laid out the canvas in front of them, Zayn pressed his hands on it, leaving blue handprints.

He then went and got the other tubes, and soon green handprints joined the blue ones.

Harry couldn’t resist but join him in the little game of his, because it looked insanely fun and because he was more content with having the paint on the canvas and on his hands than on his face.

When they practically filled in the entire canvas, they proclaimed their masterpiece finished.

“This is the last painting I’ve ever painted” Zayn said, lying down on the floor next to it. “I’m glad it was with you, Harry.”

“Don’t talk nonsense,” Harry responded, lying down as well. “I’ll need your help with my painting classes.”

“Sorry, Haz, You’ll have to do on your own. I’m done.”

“You can’t be done. I also need more details about my future,” Harry whined.

“You know what knowing the future brings you?” Zayn asked and before Harry managed to answer that with “a date with Louis” Zayn said “death.”

“Well death’s everybody future, innit?” Harry said and felt proud of himself for that marvellous conclusion.

“I’ll never paint again,” Zayn repeated and at this point Harry began wondering if he was being serious.

“Why?”

“Because I never want to be responsible for someone dying again. That sucks.”

Harry didn’t ask any further questions because what Zayn was saying made no sense.

When next morning Zayn explained it a little more rationally, Harry still thought it made no sense.

“First of all, no one could figure that shit out from that painting, seriously, it gave you literally no real clues. And second of all, even if you have figured it out, there was nothing you could’ve  done, so stop with feeling guilty for something you had nothing to do with,” Harry rambled on while Zayn accompanied him to his Art history class.

“So you don’t believe that you can change the future? You think that what you do doesn’t fucking matter cause it won’t have any affect anyway?”

“Of course not, you’re getting this all wrong,” Harry said, shaking his head.

“Whatever, Harry,” Zayn grumpled, turning around. “I’m going to get something to eat, you go and enjoy Grimmy’s endless slides of sculptured Greek penises.”

“See you at home,” Harry called after him and entered the Art building.

He took a sit next to Ed, who looked only half awake, and greeted him by tousling his mane of red hair.

“You look pretty good considering I could barely decipher your texts last night,” Ed told him with a grin that was filled with more pride that it should have been.

Harry shrugged in a _I always look good_ kind of way” and Ed rolled his eyes.

When Nick came in (wearing his _modern art = I could do that + yeah, but you didn’t_ t-shirt), his eyes roamed around the pack of students and landed on Harry. He smiled at him and Harry smiled back.

Ed rolled his eyes again, saying “This professor-student thing is such a cliché”

“There’s no professor-student thing going on,” Harry said, really tired of repeating this to everyone.

“Oh please,” Ed groaned. “You hadn’t been out with anyone since you started hanging out with him. And he looks at you like you’re a freaking ray of sunshine or something.”

“No he doesn’t,” Harry shot back. “And for your information I’ve actually got a date on Friday.”

“With Nick?”

“No. With that fairy from Donna’s play,” Harry said and watched contently as Ed’s expression changed from sceptical to impressed.


	3. no solution to the sound of this pollution

“You look bored.”

Zayn turned around to take a look at who’s spoken to him and saw Niall smiling from behind the bench. He was dressed in the thickest feather jacket imaginable and was wearing a beanie with bear ears attached to it. He took a sit next to him, leaning his guitar case on the edge of the bench.

Zayn draw a smoke from the cigarette he was holding between his fingers lazily before answering.

“Do I?”

“Yeah, man. What you’re doing sitting here by self?” Niall wondered, rubbing his hands together and eying Zayn’s thin leather jacket with unease. “And aren’t you cold? It’s fucking freezing out here!”

“I’m fine,” Zayn said, though his fingers did go a little numb.

“You want to go get something to eat?”

“I just ate. And don’t you have classes to attend or something?”

“Don’t you?” Niall asked laughingly.

“Well I’m going to fail most of them anyway so there’s really no point.”

“Well that...sucks,” Niall said and it was fairly obvious that it wasn’t the response he was expecting.” I actually just skipped one class because I was hungry.”

“Then you better go eat,” Zayn said, hopeful that Niall was more set on eating than keeping him company.

“You sure you’re okay?” Niall asked while getting up and picking up his guitar.

“Yes,” Zayn sighed. “Just out for a smoke,” he said, flashing the cigarette in his hand as evidence.

“Okay, then. See you later, I guess.” Niall smiled hesitantly one more time before walking away towards the cafeteria.

Zayn kind of wished he could trade lives with him. It must be nice when being hungry is your only problem.

He finished his cigarette before taking a stroll around campus. It really was cold for November. People seemed to avoid going outside, hiding in coffee shops or the library if they weren’t in class.

He decided to attend his Art history class after all. He didn’t need to paint or draw to pass that one, so he still might have a chance with it.

He came in early, when the only student there was this incredibly tall guy with dreadlocks that always looked like he might fall asleep any minute.

Zayn took a sit in the back and the tall guy with dreadlocks waved at him lazily. Zayn nodded to greet him back, hoping that he won’t come to talk to him – the guy talked even slower that Harry, and that’s saying something. He also got lost in what he was saying really easily, which made him start the whole thing over again and Zayn honestly wasn’t in the mood to put up with that.

Luckily the guy started scribbling something in his notebook and Zayn sighed in relief. After a minute or so, he started wondering what he was supposed to do until the class started because usually he did the same thing the dreadlocks guy was doing.

But he couldn’t do that anymore.

He settled for listening to music in the end, pulling out his phone and headphones.

He was in the middle of listening to The XX’s VCR when other students began to pile in. They mostly avoided him, didn’t wave or anything like the dreadlocks guy did, and Zayn preferred that. He took his headphones off when Nick walked in, carrying a big pile of papers that he then gave to the nearest student to distribute around.

They were their analysis of a Boticelli work of their choice from two weeks ago. Zayn had chosen The Story Of Lucretia and when he got his paper back he was surprised to find out that he got a B+.

He wished he could’ve been as pleased about it as he should have been.

When Nick started the lesson, Zayn tried to concentrate, and succeeded for the most part. By the end of it, though, his mind started drifting, going to some strange places. He started thinking about how certain painters became famous.

How their names are in the art books today, how he has to learn about their work, how Nick’s eyes lighten up as he talks about them...

He started thinking how most of them had a certain quality that separated them from the others. A lot of them were taught to be crazy during their life time, but when they died, people proclaimed them geniuses and paid a lot of money to buy their works. He thought about whether those people felt like idiots for not buying them when they could’ve still gotten them cheap.

He wondered if that’s what would’ve happen to him if he told everybody about what he can do. If people would deem him crazy, but worship him after his death.

He realized that he wouldn’t want that. What’s any praise and recognition worth to you if you’re fucking dead?

Somehow, all these thought led him to approach Nick’s table after the class and ask him for a word.

“Sure Zayn- I mean Mr Malik, how can I be of assistance?” Nick asked, waving his hand with what he thought was grace.

“I was wondering if you knew about some precognitive artistry examples? If there have ever been some paintings that predicted the future?”

“Where the hell did that come up from?” Nick wondered, looking like he questioned Zayn’s sanity. “Have you been rewatching the heroes?”

Zayn took up the excuse when Nick already offered it so kindly “Yeah, I have actually. And it got me wondering if something like that ever existed.”

“Well, I have to admit, I’m no expert in that, but I’ve never heard of any proved occurrences. There were some French postcards back in 1910 that predicted what the world would look like in a hundred years and some say that the painter did a very good job, but I personally think he just guessed a few things.”

“And that’s it?” Zayn asked. He didn’t know why, but he actually expected to get some answers from  Nick.

“Well, there are, of course, many artists who claim they predicted 9/11 through their work but that’s also very questionable.”

“So there was never someone like Isaac Mendez? No one who would enter a trance and paint stuff that would always come true? Unless the course of future changed, of course.”

“No, not that I know of. You know, Zayn, you could just go and see a seer or something.”

“I don’t want to know my future,” Zayn shot back immediately, laughing at the mere suggestion that he would want such a thing.

“Then why the sudden interest, my friend?”

“Just curiosity.”

“Okay...” Nick agreed meekly, and then added “Good job on that paper, by the way.”

“Thanks,” Zayn said.  “You haven’t given me a good grade just because I’m Harry’s friend, right?”

“Oh please. Do I look like someone who would do that?”

“Do you really want me to answer that?”

“Don’t insult your elders, Malik,” Nick said in an imitation of a stern voice and Zayn just laughed and headed out sending a quick “Bye” to him.

The next few days Zayn spent mostly in his room. It was the first time he was grateful he had no classes together with Liam or Harry, because he could easily skip them without them knowing.

He ate a lot and smoke pot and watched movies and he thought he slowly stopped giving a fuck. His mum called him on Thursday and he could tell her that he was okay without even feeling like a liar. He asked about his sisters and she told him they were doing great. He avoided the question about his dad and his mum seemed to be on the same page this time, because she didn’t mention anything about him either.

Harry and Liam tried to get him to come out and hang out with them and Niall (who seemed to be around a lot), and sometimes he would agree, but sometimes he would make up stupid excuses to not ruin their fun.

On Friday, when Harry was getting ready for his date, Zayn’s mood suddenly lifted because he realized that he and Liam could have the evening to themselves.

He even agreed to help Harry decide on what to wear (which ended in Harry wearing black skinny jeans and a blue checked shirt over a plain white t-shirt, after half an hour of him changing into an outfit after outfit and Zayn showing him thumps up for every single combination) and picked up movies he and Liam could watch later (he couldn’t decide between  The Avengers and The Dark Knight Rises).

When he asked Liam which one he would prefer (though he was 99.9 % sure which one Liam would pick), Liam looked at him apologetically as he explained that he’s going out, too.

“I’ve got a date with Rose. It was sort of last minute, so...”

“Oh,” was all Zayn managed to choke out. He took a sit on the couch because he felt like his knees might crumble.

“You could call Niall if you want and meet up with him. I think he’s going down to the pub with Josh and some other guys,” Liam offered and Zayn felt even worse, if that was even possible.

“No, I don’t feel like going out,” he responded and Liam looked at him apologetically ones more before going to the bathroom to take a shower.

Zayn decided he was going to watch The Avengers because Liam would have picked out The Dark Knight.

-

Harry’s palms started to sweat as he drove towards Louis’ apartment. He tried to convince himself that it was just a date and that Louis was just a guy, but he wasn’t very successful. When he pulled in the building’s driveway Louis was already waiting for him there, looking as great as ever. He got in the car quickly and smiled widely.

“It’s fucking freezing out there.”

“Hello to you to, too,” Harry said, smiling back and trying not to reach for Louis’ hands to warm them up in his own.

“Hi,” Louis said, with a more of a smirk than a smile. “You look nice and pretty.”

“Thanks,” Harry said, and he could feel himself blushing, and he kind of wished they were outside because then he could blameit on the cold.

He turned the car around then, heading towards the movie theatre. He expected there to be a few awkward silences in the beginning - after all, he and Louis have never actually spent time alone before - but since Louis just wouldn’t shut up, there were none of those.

“...and he told me that there was no way I could get the part of Mephistopheles, that I just didn't have what it takes to play the devil, but I went for it anyway and of course I got it, so now not only does he own me 20 bucks but I also have a major role in three of our regular plays, how fucking amazing is that?”

“That’s pretty amazing,” Harry said, and he really meant it. Louis was beyond amazing. “You know I actually saw one of your plays?”

“Oh yeah? Which one? Midsummer Night’s Dream or Heartbreak House?” Louis asked in an excited voice.

“Midsummer Night’s Dream. And you were great.”

“Oh you’re far too kind, Harold,” Louis said in his best pomp voice and Harry chuckled because even using that voice he sounded sexy.

They watched Argo, a thriller based on a true story that was a pretty good movie by itself, but not really first date material. Even though he relaxed further into the evening, Harry was still too nervous to pay enough attention to the big screen. He was hyperaware of every move Louis made, of every time he turned to him with a comment he couldn’t keep to himself (which happened pretty often) and every time his hand brushed against Harry’s own.

When the movie finished Harry decided to be brave again and asked him to go somewhere for a drink, but then Louis went and outdone him and told him they could have a drink back at his place.

Harry wasn’t crazy to say no to that, so soon afterwards they were sitting on Louis’ couch, each one of them with a beer in their hand.

Louis must have thought he talked about himself enough in the car, because now he seemed eager to know more about Harry.

“Brothers or sisters?”

“One sister. Older. Can be pain in the ass, but I love her.”

“Favourite chocolate bar?”

“Mars.”

“How did you get into sculpture?”

“Rodin”.

“That means nothing to me.”

“He was a brilliant sculptor and I when I was 11 my mum took me his museum in Paris and I sort of fell in love.”

“Ok, that makes more sense now. Summer or winter?”

“Winter”.

“Favourite Friends character?”

“Joey.”

“How many tattoos?”

“A lot.”

“Favourite play- and be careful, this one’s very important.”

“Hmm...Well, I’ve always liked Life’s a dream, though I’ve only-“

Harry couldn’t finish that sentence because Louis leaned in suddenly and kissed him. Harry froze at first, but as soon as Louis trapped his upper lip in his own, he relaxed into it, nibbling on Louis’ lower one. Louis then deepened the kiss, pushing his tongue inside of his mouth, while simultaneously locking his arms behind his neck.

Harry’s hands found their way around Louis’ waist, and just as he pulled him a little bit closer, Louis separated his lips from his and started planting kisses down his jaw line. Harry heart gave a weak throb as Louis arrived down to his neck, letting his tongue prepare the surface before sucking a bruise into his pale skin. One of his hands entangled in Harry’s curls and Harry couldn’t keep his own hands from roaming underneath Louis’ shirt.

He grabbed on the warm skin of Louis’ back while Louis lips crashed his own once again. Louis let out a moan as he pushed his tongue past Harry’s and rearranged his legs so that he was straddling him.

The sensation that ran through his body as Louis’s crotch rubbed against his own was enough to make him gasp for air, and Louis seemed to like it too because he breathed out “My room”. Harry listened to him instantly, pulling him up and carrying him to the room Louis pointed to breathlessly, because he really didn’t want to let him go even for a second.

-

Watching The Avengers while drunk was even more fun that watching it sober. Zayn could’ve sworn he fell a little bit in love with Tony. And Loki. And Natasha - he might likes guys more than girls, but that kind of curves can’t go unappreciated.

He knew he told Liam he’ll lay off trying to drown his sorrows – and he tried to that in the last few days, he really did – but Liam was off on a date so he kind of felt no obligation to fulfil any promise he might have given him.

He was kind of hoping Harry would come back early from his date - not because he didn’t wish for it to go well - but because he needed someone to keep him company and listen to him whine.

How pathetic was that?

Zayn didn’t really want to know the answer to that question.

When the movie finished, he just kept sitting on the couch, staring at the blank screen of the TV.

He sat there for a while, drinking some blueberry liqueur he found in the kitchen (that he was pretty sure Harry bought a year ago when he was pretending to be a cocktail master), when his phone rang.

It was Niall, and he was shouting something about blonde twins and their super long legs and how Zayn should come down to the pub and something else Zayn couldn’t quite understand because of all the background noise and Niall’s even heavier while drunk, incoherent accent.

Zayn was trying to figure out if Niall was just being a really good friend to someone who technically didn’t even qualify as his friend or if he actually had a crush on him or something.

Neither one of those seemed very possible, because no one is that nice and Niall seemed pretty much straight, so Zayn was properly confused.

He thought about going for a second, but then remembered that he would have to pretend to be happy drinking instead of gloomy drinking, and he quickly decided he couldn’t do that tonight.

So he told Niall that he couldn’t come but that he should enjoy himself. He took a few more swings from the blueberry liqueur bottle before he heard someone unlocking the door.

Liam came in all rosy cheeked from the cold and Zayn hated that he looked so adorable.

“Hey,” Liam said, taking of his coat and scarf.

“How was your date?” Zayn asked, hoping to hear something in the lines of _horrible_ or _couldn’t gone worse_.

“Great,” Liam responded instead, grinning widely. “She’s really sweet. And funny.” 

“So why are you back so early? Didn’t she invite over to her place?”

“No,” Liam said, looking uncomfortable. “It was our first date.”

“Sorry, I forgot what a saint you are,” Zayn shot back, turning to the blank TV screen again.

Liam walked closer to the couch, and when Zayn turned again to look at him, he saw that he was eying the blueberry liqueur critically.

“Zayn,” was all Liam voiced out, but Zayn felt like he had just ranted for about half an hour about how alcohol won’t solve his problems and how he should tell him what his problems are in the first place so that they could work on a solution together.

For a moment Zayn actually thought about telling him, so that he could realize that there are no solutions for them.

But he immediately decided against it.

Liam sat next to him, taking the bottle from the coffee table and giving it a sniff.

“This actually doesn’t smell as terrible as some other stuff does,” Liam commented and Zayn barked out a laugh.

“That’s because it’s made for girls. You should give it a try.”

“No, thanks,” Liam responded, placing it back on the coffee table (but on the edge farthest away from Zayn) and going back to eying him carefully.

Zayn felt like a ticking bomb that Liam feared might explode in any moment.

“So, how was your night? Did you do anything besides drink?”

“Watched Avengers. Imagined fucking Robert Downey Jr. And half of the other members of cast.” _And you_ , Zayn added in his head.

“That’s...Nice,” Liam said, looking uncomfortable again.

Zayn barked out another laugh. “He’s hot, isn’t he?”

“Who, Downey? I can’t really say,” Liam said, not looking at Zayn anymore, but playing with his fingers instead. He looked like he would rather be anywhere else right now, and Zayn thought that he would probably have made up an excuse and left till now, if he wasn’t worried that that would mean he’s being a bad friend..

“Oh, right. You’re straight, I forgot. My bad.”

“What’s got into you?” Liam asked with a hurt expression and it was incredible how much less Zayn minded seeing it than that morning at the pancake house. He felt like Liam caused him so much pain since then that he deserved to feel a little bit of it himself.

“Well, not you, obviously,” Zayn said, his mind too gone to think about the conclusion Liam might pull out of it.

“What?” Liam asked, actually turning his whole body around to look at him like he refused to believe he heard right.

“Does your mind automatically disregard any sexual innuendoes it can’t handle?”

Oh fuck. Did he just say that?

“I’m going to bed. I can’t-“ Liam got up and stopped midsentence, waving his hands around to try and paint the picture of what he couldn’t find the right words to say.

“Can’t what? Can’t imagine that I would want to fuck you?”

Zayn wanted to slap himself after saying that. He really should’ve shut up - he was messing everything up.

But then again, it felt so good to be so blunt.

Liam looked at him incredulously, his eye balls almost dropping out of their sockets.

“I’m going to bed,” he repeated and walked to his room faster than he walked to classes he was late for.

Zayn started laughing loudly, because really, was else was he supposed to do?

-

That Saturday, Harry and Nick went to see an exhibition called Spazio di Luce, by artist Giueseppe Panone. It was sort of about the bond between the humans and the nature and Harry was sort of impressed.

Later they went to Corney’s and even though Nick didn’t seem to interested to hear about it, Harry still told him all about his date with Louis (well, most of it, anyway).

Nick told him Louis sounded like one of those stuck up guys who love the sound of their own voice and think their interests are above everybody else’s and Harry was baffled as how he possibly came to that conclusion.

“Hey, but you say he’s fit and you got to fuck him, so it wasn’t a night wasted,” Nick added at the end of his rant in which he turned every little thing Harry shared about Louis into a fact that supported his opinion.

“You haven’t even met him, what’s with the insults?” Harry asked, ignoring his last comment because that really wasn’t what he wanted it to be about.

“I’m just being honest, that’s what friends are for.”

“No,” Harry argued. “Support is what friends are for, and I’m not really getting any from you.”

“Don’t be greedy, you just got some last night,” Nick said and smirked at him like a flirty bastard that he is.

Harry couldn’t help but chuckle, but when he spoke again, he’s tone was serious because this was a serious business to him.

“I like him, I don’t care what you think.”

“Okay, calm down Harold, I didn’t say you have to care.”

Harry looked at him defiantly for a moment before pronouncing “I’m going to introduce you to him and then you’re going to like him.”

“I thought you didn’t care what I think,” Nick laughed.

“I don’t, but you’re going to like him anyway,” Harry said, trying to look determined.

“Okay, whatever you say,” Nick agreed, smiling widely. “By the way, what’s up with Zayn?”

Harry’s head snapped up in surprise – was Zayn really in such a bad state that even Nick, who had no contact with him other than in his classes, noticed?

“What do you mean?”

“He was acting kind of weird the other day, asking me about paintings that tell the future and stuff,” Nick explained and Harry was even more surprised because he didn’t think Zayn would mention anything about that to someone else.

But Nick still didn’t seem to know the real story, so he acted like he didn’t know anything either. “He was?”

“Yes, and- Wait, what are you hiding?” Nick smiled and glared at him. “You’re such a bad liar, Harry.”

Harry didn’t think he was a bad liar at all – he could lie to Liam successfully. And he hasn’t really lied to Nick in the first place.

“Nothing. I asked you a two worded question, how did you even conclude I was lying?”

“I know your lying face,” Nick said proudly.

“I don’t have a lying face!”

“You’re doing it right now,” Nick said, pointing at his face with his long index finger.

“Am not,” Harry sad, pouting.

“Such a child. Why do I even like you?” Nick responded, shaking his head. He didn’t give Harry time to respond to that, though, because he said “So tell me what are you hiding.”

“If Zayn didn’t tell you then I can’t either.”

“Sure you can,” Nick encouraged. “Just spit it out.”

“I can’t! And I should be going anyway, since you piled us with homework for next week.”

“If you tell me what you’re hiding, you don’t have to write any of it,” Nick offered, and Harry laughed because Nick was such a desperately curious soul.

“You’re the worst professor ever,” he told him.

“That’s not what that mug you got me says,” Nick objected and Harry remembered the _Best professor in the world_  mug he bought him as a house warming gift a month ago.

“Mugs lie,” Harry said simply.

"Then you and mugs got something in common," Nick shot back, but Harry could tell by the way he was smiling that he had sort of given up of getting the truth out of him.

At least for now.

When he got home, the apartment looked empty. He knew Liam drove home for the weekend because that morning he found the note Liam left on the kitchen table.

And he knew Zayn was probably home, but closed up in his room, like he’s been all week. He went to check up on him, because he kind of rushed out in the morning to meet up with Nick and didn’t get the chance to talk to him at all.

He felt kind of guilty because of that – since Liam went out with Rose last night, Zayn probably wasn’t in the best state.

When he opened the door to his room, he found him still in bed, with headphones in his ear.

When Zayn saw him, he took them off, sat upright and said “Hey”.

“Hi,” Harry responded, sitting next to him and doing a quick assessment. Zayn looked like he hadn’t gotten too much sleep – there were dark circles under his eyes and his complexion looked paler than usual. His head was a mess for once and he was wearing his ancient green hoodie that looked like it had been washed at least two thousand times.

“How did it go last night? Did you kiss in some long, empty hallway?” Zayn asked, a version of a half smile on his face.

“No,” Harry said, chuckling a little. "But that’s good, because it means I’ll get to see him and kiss him again."

“Considering you’ve been gone all night, I’m guessing you did a little more than kiss.”

“You’re guessing right,” Harry said, smirking.

Zayn actually managed to pull a version of a real smile and he sounded genuine when he said “I’m glad it went well.”

“Thanks,” Harry responded, but he couldn’t let himself be as happy as he should have when he knew Zayn’s night probably went awful. “Are you okay?”

“Not really,” Zayn said and Harry got scared because what ever happened, at least Zayn always _claimed_ he was okay.

“Because of Liam?”

“I kind of said something to him last night,” Zayn said and looked up at Harry like he wished he would just guessed what it was so he wouldn’t have to explain.

“You told him you loved him?” Harry guessed, louder than he intended. He got even more scared now, because if Zayn really did admit how he felt and he was lying here looking all wretched that could mean only one thing.

“No,” Zayn said, and Harry sighed in relief. “But I kind of told him I want to fuck him.”

“You mean you joked about it?” Harry asked, because that seemed the only realistic option.

“Not really.”

“Wow,” was all Harry managed to say.

“Yeah,” Zayn responded, not looking at Harry anymore.

“And what did he say?”

“He said he was going to bed and then he stormed out of there as quickly as possible and today he went home just so he wouldn’t have to face me, so all in all, I think I just lost one of my best friends.”

Zayn was close to tears at this point and Harry didn’t really know what to do. So he tried consoling him with the lamest words possible.

“He’ll come around, he was probably just surprised. Tell him you were drunk or something.”

“I _was_ drunk!” Zayn yelled. “But he’ll still feel uncomfortable whenever he’s around me, there’s nothing I can do.”

“Liam isn’t going to stop being your friend just because he thinks you might be into him,” Harry said in a serious tone. Zayn should’ve known this – he knew Liam just as well as Harry did.

"Maybe he secretly loves you, too, maybe that’s why he’s reacting like this," Harry added, aware that he was stepping on thin ice, because there’s nothing worse than having your hopes up just to see them fall even further down.

“Oh please,” Zayn said, rolling his eyes. “Don’t be so fucking naive.”

Harry would’ve rather called himself a romantic than naive, but he let it pass. He felt his phone vibrate in his pocket and he pulled it out to read the text he received. It was from Louis and it immediately brought a smile to his face.

_meet me at social tonight? xx_

He turned to Zayn “We’re going out tonight. I’m not going to let you sulk all day.”


	4. trapped inside the fear, i’ve never said a word, but i still wanted you to hear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've managed to get this out much quicker that I thought, thanks to being sick and neglecting a lot of other things I needed to do it because of it. During writing most of it, I've been in a kind of a bad mood, which I think shows, so sorry about that! Also sorry about all this mention of being free and such, I really don't know what came over me :D
> 
> And I think the next chapter won't be out till after Christmas because I really, really want to finish the Christmas one-shot I've started.

Zayn thought he knew how the night was going to go down – he’ll have to witness Harry and Louis’ flirting and touching and it’ll just remind him of what he can’t have, so he’ll get wasted and hook up with the first random person who gives him a time of the day.

However, things didn’t exactly go down that way in the end.

First of all, Louis and Harry didn’t act as coupley as he imagined them to. When they arrived at the club, Harry kissed Louis and Louis kissed him back, but pulled away a little too quickly. Zayn saw the confused expression that crossed Harry’s face and felt the need to take Harry’s hand and lead him out of the crowded club - away from the sticky floor and the smell of alcohol and the disappointment that he knew Harry wasn’t too good in handling.

But Harry smiled through his confusion and took a sit next to Louis, so Zayn had no other choice but to join him.

He later noticed that Louis didn’t treat Harry any differently that he treated all the other people there – Niall, Josh, two girls named Eleanor and Phoebe, or even him. It was like he just invited him to drink and hang out instead on a sort of a date, like Harry was convinced was the case.

Secondly, he didn’t really drank all that much. He just drank enough to be able to pretend to be in a somewhat of a good mood.

And thirdly, he didn’t hook up with no random - but Niall out of all people.

It happened when he went out for a smoke and Niall followed him under the pretence of getting some fresh air.

“I think Pheobe’s got an eye on you,” Niall said, rocking back and forward on his feet, while Zayn was leaning against the wall, lighting up a smoke.

“She’s not really my type,” Zayn responded and Niall laughed and Zayn guessed it was because Phoebe was actually quite hot. Her looks were definitely not the problem – Zayn just thought she seemed like one of those girls you have to work really hard for, and there was only one person Zayn would be willing to do that for.

He didn’t explain any of this to Niall, though.

“I thought everyone was your type,” Niall said and it was Zayn’s turn to laugh.

“I guess you thought wrong.”

“I guess I did,” Niall said, grinning. “Maybe it’s the other way around – maybe you’re everyone’s type.”

Zayn laughed even louder. “No, not everyone’s.”

“Well you’re definitely not mine,” Niall said and Zayn wondered why he felt the need to clear that up until Niall added “So I really don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“What?”

“Maybe I’m just curious...” Niall said quietly and stepped a little closer.

By that time Zayn concluded that he was right about no one being that nice, but wrong about Niall being completely straight.

He also looked at Niall differently for the first time since he’d met him and concluded that there was something extremely attractive about him.

It was like he was his exact opposite - in everything from his hair and eye colour to the way he laughed and dressed; from the things he liked to how he looked at life at.

And even though he could remember reading something about how psychological research has shown that the _opposites attract_ theory’s complete bullshit, he was a painter and he valued contrasts more than anything.

Which is why instead of stepping away, he stepped closer, too.

Niall smiled and accepted the invitation willingly, placing one of his hands on Zayn’s waist and the other behind his neck.

He kissed him softly at first, but parted his lips with his tongue soon after, biting on Zayn’s own tongue lightly. Zayn let him be in control, because it’s what he would’ve wanted if he was kissing a guy for the first time.

Niall deepened the kiss then, locking both of his arms around Zayn’s neck. Zayn held Niall’s waist with only one of his hand because he was still holding onto his cigarette with his other one.

He thought about whether that was considered rude for a second before he decided he didn’t care.

When Niall pulled away, he stared at him drunkenly for a moment before breathing out “Different. But not bad.”

“Glad you thought so...” Zayn said and laughed because he couldn’t help himself.

“I want to try again,” Niall said and didn’t even wait for Zayn’s answer before clashing their mouths together once more.

It lasted longer this time and Zayn actually got rid of the cigarette so he could put both of his hands to use. Niall was quite a good kisser – even in the state he was in. Maybe a little too enthusiastic, but all in all, pretty good.

They kept it going until they heard someone’s loud coughs from behind them. Niall let him go and turned around so swiftly he almost lost his balance and landed flat on the floor.

“Louis!” he cried out and Louis laughed while Harry who was standing beside him stared at them with wide eyes.

“Having fun?” Louis asked and he was still laughing, and Zayn couldn’t really care why because he was busy trying to figure out where the two of them were going together.

“We were just-“ Niall began but Louis cut him off and gave Zayn his answer.

“Yeah, I know what you were just.” He laughed again. “Well, maybe you could crash at Zayn’s then so Harry and I could have the flat to ourselves.”

Niall turned to look at Zayn, and Zayn just shrugged and said “Whatever you want.”

Louis went out to get them a cab then, but Harry lingered on and Zayn was pretty sure he was struggling between having privacy with Louis and stopping Zayn from fucking Liam’s friend.

He obviously chose the first option because he followed after his seemingly bipolar boyfriend, sending a quick “Bye” to him and Niall.

He did, however, still send him a text saying _bad idea_ 30 seconds later, to which Zayn chose not to respond and got a different cab for him and Niall.

Niall started looking nervous as soon as Harry and Louis left, so Zayn felt the need to make it clear to him that just because he’s sleeping over they don’t exactly have to do anything.

Niall seemed to relax significantly after that and Zayn was almost offended.

“So you’re not really _that_ curious, are you?” he asked him once they were in the backseat, and already half through the short drive to Zayn’s apartment.

“I am, I just...I mean, you’re just so...free. And I’m not. Not in that way,” Niall said, not looking at him until those last few words and Zayn felt a stab of sadness because Niall was _so_ very wrong.

He was anything _but_ free. And he believed in being free, which is what made it so much worse.

He didn’t say anything until they reached the building and were waiting for the elevator.

And then, he somehow went in the full _recounting the sad story of my life to an almost stranger_ mode.

“You’re more free than I’ve ever been. I never make a move if I’m not at least 90 percent sure someone’s interested. It took me almost 10 years to admit to my parents that all I ever wanted to do is paint and I still stay awake at night thinking how my dad hates me for becoming what he hates. I don’t show my work to anybody besides who I have to, and Liam and Harry sometimes...Hell, I don’t even paint anymore because I’m not free to do what I want. I’m not free at all.”

Niall stared at him for a moment, blinking relentlessly, before he cracked a joke and Zayn couldn’t be more grateful to him for making him look like a little less of an idiot.

“Well, I don’t know why I was worried, you’re no different from any girl I’ve dated. One kiss and you’re having and emotional breakdown,” Niall said  and hugged him while his body still shook from laugher and Zayn thought that maybe Niall actually was that nice.

“Sorry,” Zayn murmured into his shoulder. It was the first sorry he said in a while.

“No, I’m sorry,” Niall said. “Sorry about your dad and your painting and- Wait, how the fuck don’t you paint, isn’t that like your major?”

Niall let him go and stared at him incredulously, but with a grin on his face.

“Yeah, that is a complicated story. And I’m scared you might actually believe it, because you’re still drunk. And we should probably get in that elevator.”

“Okay,” Niall agreed and followed him in. “But I still want to hear that story. We have all night. And I’m a pretty gullible person – I would probably believe it anyway.”

“I think I said enough for one night,” Zayn laughed and he was relieved when Niall didn’t push it any further.

-

It was easy to almost not care – what with Louis’ taste still attached to his lips and his smell still lingering on his clothes – but there was a part of him that still did.

Louis basically ignored him all night, all up until he asked him if he wanted to get out of there and they got in a cab. Even then he started talking about Zayn and Niall and how he’s going to be teasing his little cousin for the rest of his life and didn’t even care that all Harry wanted to do was kiss him.

When they entered Louis’ apartment, it was a different story though – and Harry felt like it didn’t matter that he wouldn’t dance with him or snog him in the corner or barely look at him while they were at the club – because he did so much more than that then.

But as he was unlocking the door to his own apartment at 5 o’clock in the morning, that part of him that cared couldn’t help but wonder if Louis _really_ had an early morning rehearsal.

He walked in quietly, hoping that he won’t hear any unwanted sounds.

He saw that the light was turned on in the kitchen and after listening carefully for a few seconds to make sure that Zayn and Niall weren’t actually doing it _in their fucking kitchen_ , he took a peek and saw Niall leaning on the counter with a glass of water in his hand.

“Hey,” Niall said, smiling at him and when Harry greeted back Niall pointed at the glass. “I was really thirsty.”

“I can imagine,” Harry said. “Is Zayn asleep?”

“I wouldn’t know,” Niall answered and it looked like only then it hit him what Harry was applying.

“We didn’t actually have sex or anything,” he explained hurriedly and when Harry sighed and said “Oh. Good.” Niall looked at him a little resentfully.

“No, I didn’t mean...I mean, not that I would mind, it’s just that Zayn’s...” Harry struggled to find some way of explaining it without telling him that Zayn’s in love with his friend.  “It would’ve been awkward later,” is what he settled for in the end.

“Yeah, probably,” Niall agreed and Harry was glad he did because he really liked Niall. And he wanted Niall to like him back.

“You’re back early,” Niall said just when Harry was about to announce that he was going to bed.

“Yeah, Louis has an early rehearsal tomorrow.”

“He does?” Niall asked and Harry felt a stab of pain that really shouldn’t be so easy to cause.

“That’s what he said,” Harry responded and when Niall said nothing he suddenly realized why everyone though he was a bad liar. Niall was just like him in that area.

Which Harry decided to take to his advantage.

“You think he’s lying?”

“No,” Niall said, and _wow_ , he was even worse than him. Harry thought that not even Liam would believe him. “Why would he?”

“Because he didn’t want me to spend the night,” Harry offered and Niall fidgeted awkwardly before saying “Louis’ nice. He’s just not really the relationship type.”

“What does that mean?” Harry asked loudly and a little more aggressively that he intended. That stab of pain hit him again.

“Just don’t have big expectations, okay?”

“I always have big expectations.”

Harry realized how lame that sounded only after he said it.

Niall looked at him pitifully and Harry hated it, but couldn’t even resent him for it.

“Try not to this time,” Niall advised before getting up and leaving the kitchen.

Harry went to his room and debated whether to wake up Zayn, call Nick or call Liam. He decided to do none of those in the end, because Zayn had enough of his own problems, Nick would probably just say “I told you I didn’t like him” or something equally as unhelpful and Liam was gone all weekend and just explaining everything that had happened to him would take up all of his energy.

The next morning, he woke up to no texts on his phone and it was only then that he realized how badly he wanted there to be at least one.

He stayed in his bed until Zayn came in and crawled in next to him.

“Niall’s gone home. I didn’t fuck him, by the way,” Zayn said without looking away from the ceiling he was staring at.

“I know.”

“How do you know? And what’s Louis’ problem?”

“Niall told me when I got home,” Harry responded. “And unfortunately he told me that, too. Apparently Louis’ not really a relationship type.”

“That’s bullshit! What’s that even supposed to be mean?” Zayn yelled, pulling himself up in a sitting position.

“I’m pretty sure it means he doesn’t want to date me.”

“Well then he’s a fucking idiot, who wouldn’t want to date you? Fuck, I wished I was in love with you -can you imagine how simple things would be if the two of us could date?”

“Yeah,” Harry said, deciding to keep the fact that he didn’t think dating Zayn would be simple at all to himself.

“I wish we could control stuff like that. I wish we were free. We _should_ be free,” Zayn said with so much conviction in his voice that Harry didn’t say anything back, because he didn’t want to ruin his moment.

Zayn had a lot of those kinds of moments.

Liam didn’t come back until late that night. Harry and Zayn played video games all afternoon, and even though Harry was winning it didn’t make him feel any better.

Liam looked angry and Harry didn’t think that that was a good sign. He lasted barely 10 minutes before he turned on Zayn, but not with the accusations Harry (and probably Zayn, too) expected.

“Was there no one there but Niall? No one else in the entire club you could mess around with?”

Zayn looked at Liam disbelievingly, and Harry thought he wasn’t going to say anything so he tried to answer for him, but Zayn cut him off before he got a single syllable out.

 _“He_ kissed me. What’s your problem?”

“My problem is that you think it’s okay to go around making people question their sexuality. Well it’s not. It’s wrong,” Liam said and Harry couldn’t remember ever seeing him looking this upset. There was no way this was just about Niall. Harry felt excitement rush through him and he wanted to say something but Zayn cut him off again.

“Are you insane? How is it my fault that Niall’s curious about guys? And sexuality is not a thing set in stone, I wish you would realize that already!”

“Not everyone’s like you,” Liam said and it was probably the worst choice of words ever.

“Liam, are you sure you’re talking about Niall?” Harry finally managed to ask and Zayn and Liam both turned to him. Zayn sent him a look that said something like _Don’t go there_ and Liam said “You’re both ridiculous,” and marched up to his room.

Harry got up to follow after him but Zayn held his arm and stopped him.

“He’s clearly talking about himself, Zayn. I’m going to get him to admit it,” Harry said, waiting for Zayn to release him when he realizes how right he was, but it didn’t happen.

“He won’t... Just please don’t.”

“I’m tired of this,” Harry said, pulled his arm from Zayn’s grasp and headed towards Liam’s room before Zayn could stop him.

Liam was less than happy to see him there, but Harry didn’t care. They were both his friends and this needed to be resolved. He really _was_ tired.

He sat next to him on the bed and sighed loudly.

“I’m gay, Li.”

“I’m aware of that, thanks,” Liam said and actually smiled.

“Good. Then you know that I understand and that you can talk to me.”

“Thanks, Harry but there’s nothing to talk about. Niall’s my friend and Zayn really could have stayed away from him. “

“I know what happened on Friday.”

“Then you know that Zayn will have a go at anyone. Did you two ever- Actually don’t answer that, I don’t want to know,” Liam said and Harry couldn’t help but laugh and shake his head.

“What?” Liam asked and Harry laughed even harder.

“You’re just so clueless, Li. Sometimes I have trouble believing you’re not pretending.”

Liam looked upset again. “Then tell me. Tell me what I’m clueless about. You know, it’s hard not to be clueless when you and Zayn are always keeping things from me.”

It would’ve been so easy – just tell Liam that Zayn’s in love with him. Either option – Liam loving him back that way or not, would finally let Zayn carry on with his life.

But it wasn’t Harry’s job to tell.

“Go and ask Zayn. Please, Li, go and ask him and insist that he tells you until he does.”

Liam debated it for a moment. “Is it bad? What he needs to tell me?”

“No, it’s definitely not bad.”

“Okay,” Liam agreed sort of reluctantly and got up to go and find Zayn.

Harry stayed where he was. He was so nervous that for a few moments, he even forgot all about Louis and how he didn’t hear from him all day.

Liam came back much sooner that Harry expected him to. He rushed in with a worried expression crying out  “Something’s wrong with Zayn.”

“What do you mean?”

“He’s painting, but there’s something wrong. His eyes are all blank and he wouldn’t even look at me,” Liam said, already heading back to Zayn’s room.

Harry followed him and even though he knew what was going on, the sight he saw still surprised him.

He never imagined it to look so scary. It was almost like Zayn was possessed by something – he just kept painting at an unbelievable speed, his empty glare not moving over to their direction even once.

“We have to wait till it’s done,” he told Liam who suddenly looked very pale.

“Till what’s done?”

“The painting,” Harry said impatiently.”Let’s just sit and wait.”

-

This time it was different.

This time Zayn couldn’t even remember setting the canvas and taking out his brushes and paint tubes. He refused to paint solely for the purpose of this not happening, and still, somehow, it had happened.

The painting made no sense, just like the last time. And that’s what scared Zayn the most.

“Zayn,” he heard Harry’s voice say somewhere from behind him. He turned to found Harry and Liam sitting on his bed. Liam looked worried and frightened and confused all at once. Zayn thought Liam looked exactly like he did when this had happened for the first time.

“I don’t know what’s going on. I have no control anymore,” Zayn said because it was the truth. How ironic was it that the whole day he’d been thinking about what it would be like if he had more control. If he were free. It’s like life decided to spit right at his face.

“It’s okay,” Harry said, standing up and approaching him slowly.

Harry was actually a good liar when he didn’t think he was lying.

“Are you alright?” Liam asked and for a moment Zayn forgot how mad he was at him. It looked like Liam had forgotten, too.

“I don’t know,” Zayn said honestly.

“Is this what you were supposed to tell me?” Liam asked and then added to Harry “How exactly is this definitely not bad?”

“It’s not it,” Harry said and Zayn hoped they weren’t talking about what he thought they were.

“Zayn can paint the future,” Harry spit out suddenly and when Zayn shot him a reproving look Harry went all defensive “Well, he saw you, we might as well tell him.”

“That’s impossible,” Liam said and Zayn just rolled his eyes because he knew Liam would never believe him.

“It’s not,” Harry began and even though Zayn thought trying to convince Liam was waste of time, Harry apparently didn’t share his opinion. “He painted a bunch of things that came true, including Louis and me - actually, Zayn that picture hasn’t come true yet, do you know what that means? Okay, never mind, not the point now, the point is that it is possible, Liam. Zayn can paint the future and that’s why he’s been all miserable lately, well actually one of the reasons, it’s also why he stopped painting.”

“When did you stop painting?” Liam asked him and Zayn shrugged, saying “It’s only been a week.”

Liam went from looking worried to looking sad and Zayn obviously went back to hating seeing him like that because the sight made him sad, too – which made no sense because the words _not everyone’s like you_ were still on constant replay in his mind.

“And how’s this supposed to predict the future?” Liam asked then, staring at the still not dry canvas.

Zayn and Harry turned their attention to it, too.

The painting depicted a human skull at the right bottom, some kind of floating white scarf above it and a green building in the background. Numbers 111 were written in white chalk on the asphalt and the sky looked red, but too red to be interpreted as a sunset.

When he first looked at it, Zayn had no idea what it meant, but he was still dazed from the trance. He still didn’t know exactly what it was, but he knew it wasn’t good. Everything about it screamed out _death_.

“I think it means someone’s going to die,” he said.

“Because of the skull?” Harry asked while Liam seemed unable to make a sound.

“Not just because of the skull. Look at the number – 111 - it’s the first of November, the day of the death. Look at the bloody sky and the white scarf.”

“How’s the white scarf the sign of death?” Harry wondered, coming closer to inspect it more thoroughly.

“In West the colour that signifies death is black, but in East it’s white,” Zayn explained, and it all actually started to make sense. He had to know how to explain anything that he painted, because it was _him_ who painted it. It came out of his mind, even though he might not have been aware of how.

“So maybe the person that’s going to die is Asian or something?” Harry suggested.

“Maybe,” Zayn agreed.

“Well that narrows it down, doesn’t it?” Liam said when he got his voice back. “Are you two hearing yourself? This is insane.”

“Actually it’s not. Harry, do you remember the last painting I painted before this one?” When Harry nodded, Zayn continued. “It predicted people dying, too. And it wasn’t clear and unambiguous as the rest of time. Neither is this one. Maybe my mind can’t handle such predictions too well, and that’s why I paint them this way.”

“Zayn, please...Stop.” Liam said, but Zayn ignored him. He wanted Liam to believe him so much, but he knew he wouldn’t from the start. It didn’t matter now, though – for once, something wasn’t about Liam.

A rush of adrenaline ran through him and he felt better than he had in a while.

“You know what Camus once wrote?” He turned to Harry. “He wrote _freedom is nothing else but a chance to be better_. So maybe this isn’t a fucking cage, maybe it’s my chance to get out of it - to be free by being better.

Harry was now looking at him in bewilderment, too, though his look couldn’t even compare to Liam’s.

“How?” he asked.

“By stopping this, whatever it is, from happening. By saving someone’s life, “ Zayn said with a grin on his face that might have been a bit too optimistic, but Zayn didn’t care.

For once in his life he felt like being optimistic was the only way to go.


	5. my desperate endeavor to find my whoever

As Harry watched Zayn (who was sitting on the edge of his bed with a sketch note in his lap and a drawing pencil in his hand) trying, for the first time, to deliberately enter that trance of his, his emotions were a mix of excitement, fear and pure astonishment.

Zayn said that he knew he held all the information they needed inside of him and that he only needed to get it out.

It was weird seeing him do this, mostly because he has spent the last two weeks doing everything he can to avoid it.

But he claimed it was different now – that he could control it better. Not in the sense he wanted to control it before, not stopping it from happening, but completely the opposite – making it happen.

Harry concluded that he was right because his eyes went all blank again and his hand was making swift movements across the paper.

After a few minutes the sketch started resembling a calendar, _their_ calendar, the one hanging on their kitchen wall. And above it there was a clock _, their_ clock, the small, blue one with white pointers they had hanged above the calendar.

When Zayn exited the trance he took a swift look at the paper.

“In two days, at 5:26 pm,” he announced, and Harry could tell by the shakiness in his voice that he was thinking the same thing he was.

That was soon.

“So you drew our calendar and our clock and you think that that tells you when this person is going to die?” Liam said, his tone heavy with scepticism, and, as if that wasn’t enough to let them know his opinion on the matter, he rolled his eyes and let out a humourless laugh.

“Yes, I do,” Zayn responded, putting an emphasis on every word and turning to Harry. “We still don’t know where it’s going to happen.”

“Can’t you just go all blank eyes again and draw that too?”

“I don’t think I can give us more clues than I already did,” Zayn said, sparing a glance at the painting again. “We need to find out where that building is.”

“You’re kidding, right?” Liam asked in that same sceptical tone.

Zayn ignored him, but Harry couldn’t help but think that Liam didn’t say that just to emphasize his disagreement again, so he asked “What?”

“That’s the Spain embassy building. You must have seen it before, it’s not even that far from here.”

“Are you sure?” Zayn asked.

“Positive,” Liam responded immediately.

“Well then we got both the time and the place,” Zayn said and Harry wondered for a moment what the hell are they supposed to do with that information.

 “Yes, you’ve got the time and the place for an imaginary murder,” Liam said, sitting on the bed next to Zayn like he didn’t know his words were insulting.

It was the first time the word _murder_ was mentioned and Harry emotions became more fear and less excitement. “We don’t actually know it’s going to be a murder, do we?”

“No,” Zayn said. “But I know someone’s going to die, so excuse me Liam if I’m trying to stop it.”

Liam started shaking his head, like he was trying to say that it made no sense for Zayn to imply that Liam was the one being unreasonable here.

Harry thought the situation was complicated enough without not having Liam on their side, so he tried once more to get him to believe.

“Liam, why would we both lie to you? Why would we make something like this up? This is real.”

“I don’t think you’re lying... It’s just- It can’t be, okay? It’s not possible,” Liam said, and he looked over at Zayn carefully while doing so, like he was afraid he was going to make him even angrier.

“If you don’t want to believe us, fine, but then get out ‘cause this isn’t helping,” Zayn said, more calmly then Harry would have expected and when Liam actually listened to him, all Harry could think was _No, Zayn we need him_.

Because some rational thinking could be a useful tool while trying to save someone’s life.

He and Zayn spent another hour trying to come up with ideas for what to do.

Half of that time Harry wasted on trying to convince Zayn they needed to let the police know, in case it’s really going to be a murder.

Zayn was against that because he didn’t think they had enough information to offer to the police and had no way of explaining how they obtained the information that they did have.

They ended up agreeing on just appearing on that street corner and seeing how things go from there.

It wasn’t a very good plan, in Harry’s opinion, and he decided to convince Zayn to notify the police after all, but he had a piercing headache now and all he wanted to do was go to sleep. So he left that task for tomorrow.

When he woke up, his head still ached and Zayn and Liam barely talked to each other in the morning (although, Liam did throw worried glances at Zayn every once in a while and Zayn would pretend he didn’t notice) and he didn’t think his morning could get any worse until he ran into Ed on the campus.

Running into Ed wouldn’t be a bad thing by itself, but Donna, Pheobe and Louis were walking next to him.

Harry tried saying “Hi” to all of them and throwing Ed a look which said _Don’t try to stop me and talk to me now_ and just walking by, but Louis called after him and he had to use all his will power not to let himself think about that Zayn’s painting that still hadn’t come true.

“Can we talk for a minute?” Louis asked him in that beautiful voice of his, and there was no way that could end up well.

“Sure,” Harry said and Louis smiled before grabbing his wrist and taking him into the nearest building.

Harry managed to read the sign that said _Scenography_ before Louis led him through the entrance, which was weird because he was fairly sure that all of the drama buildings were on the west side of the campus.

“You like me, don’t you?” Louis asked once he stopped walking and let go of Harry’s wrist.

It wasn’t really the question Harry was expecting. However, the answer was clear.

“Yeah.”

“And I like you, too. And we had fun, right?” Louis pronounced that more like a statement than a question, so Harry wasn’t sure if he wanted an answer.

But Louis was looking at him expectedly, so in the end Harry concluded that he wanted one after all.

“Yeah, we did.”

“Okay,” Louis confirmed, laughing a little.

Harry was confused – that couldn’t have been all Louis wanted to talk about. Especially since his question was in the past tense.

“Is this supposed to be your version of a break-up?” he asked, trying to sound like that would be completely alright with him, but failed miserably.

“A break-up? C’mon Harry, we fucked twice, there’s hardly anything to break up in the beginning”

There was a big smile on Louis’ face as he said that, and he took a step closer to him, and Harry had a hard time comprehending how someone could be so insensitive.

And also, how could he still like him so fucking much.

“So what is this, then?” he asked him after taking an enough of a pause to make sure his voice wasn’t going to break.

“I just want us to be friends,” Louis said, but he took another step closer and it was like his body was telling a completely different story. “I told you, I like you, so I don’t want to ruin this.”

It made no sense to Harry. If you like someone, then you want to be with them. You don’t want to be just friends. Unless you like them in a different way. But if that’s the case, why didn’t Louis just say so in the beginning?

And why was he still smiling and leaning closer?

“So? Friends, yeah?” Louis asked, and he was so close that Harry could taste his breathe.

“Sure,” he managed to murmur before Louis kissed him – an intense, no time to waste kiss, that left Harry thinking that Louis’ taste will be forever imprinted on his lips.

“What was that?” he asked when Louis pulled away (too suddenly for his liking).

“Just one last kiss,” Louis stated matter-of-factly, and he probably had no idea that that just one last kiss will be replayed in Harry’s mind over and over again.

“I’ve got to go now,” Louis added before Harry managed to respond. “But I’ll see you later.”

It wasn’t until Louis disappeared back into the cold that Harry realized why the hallway he was standing in seemed familiar.

It was the one from Zayn’s painting.

He took a look at his blue t-shirt, and remembered the violet one Louis was wearing and he knew that that kiss really was their last one.

Because the painting came true and now there was nothing left he could hold onto.

-

Zayn attended all of his morning classes.

He knew he was terribly behind in most of them, and that he’ll probably have to spend the whole weekend painting (now that he finally _could_ paint) and writing papers just to make up for at least half of the work, but he wasn’t worried.

He felt focused and strangely relaxed.

It was a curative kind of feeling – it seemed to him that he was finally doing something right, and that doing something right was exactly what he needed to do if he wanted to get out of this hole it felt like he was stuck in.

There was some anxiety and worry hidden underneath, sure there was, but they didn’t control him.

Even the Liam situation couldn’t make him lose his grip now, even though it seemed to have only gotten worse.

Liam’s doubt hurt, but almost everything about him hurt anyway, so it’s not like there was much difference.

It was already late afternoon when he went back to the apartment, having spent a good part of the day in the library.

He thought there was no one home at first, but when he entered his room, he found Liam there, looking through some of his paintings.

“What’re you doing?”

“Trying to believe,” Liam said with a sad little smile as he turned to him and put down the canvas in his hand.

“How’s that working out for you?”

It was amazing how little it took Liam to become the centre of his world again. He just had to try a little, and Zayn would fall for him all over again.

“I don’t know,” Liam said honestly.

Zayn threw his bag on the bed and took a sit at the end of it and Liam joined him.

“I couldn’t sleep last night,” Liam said after they sat in silence for a few moments. “I kept thinking how I let you down.”

“You didn’t,” Zayn said even though he wasn’t so sure of that. But he was sure that he didn’t want Liam to think that.

“I did. I don’t know whether this thing is real or not, but either way I should have been a better friend. Like you always were for me. I mean- sometimes I’m not sure if you know how much you mean to me, but- well, you mean a lot. “

Liam sounded so genuine that Zayn just wanted to hold him close and keep on holding him and never let him know how much this friendship actually cost him.

“Do you remember when we met in year 9? How I was new and too shy to meet people on my own and how you made Harry move seats just so you two could sit next me where no one wanted to? How you had to read some story out loud on my very first day and you read it with a Russian accent just to make me laugh? How you later told me you always do that, but Harry laughed too loudly and I knew that that wasn’t true?”

Zayn nodded and smiled all through Liam’s recounting and he thought that it was ridiculous of Liam to ask him that at all, because _of course_ he remembered, how could he not?

“You’re the reason the three of us are best friends today. You’ve always had my back, and I’m sorry I forget to return that favour sometimes. But it doesn’t mean I don’t care, because I do. A lot.”

“I know,” Zayn said, even though, once again, he wasn’t so sure he did. But he was sure he wanted Liam to think he did.

“Good,” Liam said, smiling for real now.

He hugged him, and Zayn relaxed into his arms immediately, burying his head into his shoulder, because he’d learned to take advantage of the opportunity when it was presented to him.

When Liam detached his arms from around his waist, he looked around a little reluctantly before voicing out “There’s something you need to tell me. Harry said I should insist on it. And maybe this isn’t the best time, but- I still want to know.”

Since Liam now already knew about the painting thing, there was only one thing left Harry could’ve been talking about.

And Zayn considered telling it to Liam. _Truly_ considered it. The time did seem right – it shouldn’t have, considering what happened last week and what Zayn had to do tomorrow – but Liam was here and he was listening and he had just told him how much he means to him, so somehow, it did.

Zayn thought about all the times he rehearsed this in his head, about all the different speeches he had prepared and he dismissed every single one, because Liam’s little story made him remember something.

“Do you remember when Kevin Miles and Sean Burtstone told everyone that the two of us were dating?” Liam looked a little confused, but he nodded, so Zayn continued. “And how people yelled names at us in the hallways and how everyone basically believed it until a month later you started dating that Betty girl?” Liam nodded again. “And you know how I was mad so I convinced Harry to help me get back at them, so we got Linda Walltington - you know the one who had a thing for Harry - to tell all the girls that Kevin and Sean had Chlamydia?”

Zayn stared at Liam until he said “Yeah...” and then he swallowed and said “Well, actually, I wasn’t mad at all.”

“You weren’t?”

“No,” Zayn said and smiled a little, because wow, he was really about to do this.

“ I didn’t mind that people thought we were dating, because...I wanted to date you.”

“You wanted to date me?” Liam repeated, looking at him like he wanted to think he was joking, but knew he wasn’t.

“Well, not really want _ed_ to...more like, _want_ to... “ Zayn said slowly, carefully. And disbelievingly, because he actually did it.

But _no_ , he didn’t, not like he should have done.

So before Liam, whose eyes looked almost round, managed to put a word in, Zayn continued.

“I love you, Liam. And not like a best friend, not like I probably should, but like you’re everything I need to be better and everything it kills me I’ll never have even though I still dream I will. And I know you don’t want me to love you like this, but I’m not going to apologize for it, because it’s unchangeable. It’s totally and completely unchangeable, and I sort of hate and love that fact all at once, and I know it’s fucked up and what not, but I still love you.”

Now he did it.

Liam looked like he was about to cry and Zayn wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not.

“I thought-“ he said, but choked on it. He tried again. “I thought you said you didn’t fall in love.”

Zayn did said that – multiple times, but he didn’t think anyone really believed him.

“I don’t,” Zayn still said. “I just fell once.”

“I’m not really sure what I should say.”

Zayn was sure what he wanted Liam to say – but he was also sure he wanted it to be the truth.

“Just say what you want to say.”

Liam didn’t seem to find those instructions particularly helpful - he still looked lost.

“Can I think about what that is?” he asked hopefully,

“Sure,” Zayn responded.

He took the plunge and all that was left for him to do is wait to see where he’ll land.

-

Harry felt like a pathetic idiot, so he called Nick, because he knew that he’ll agree with him.

It was Monday – not the best day for getting drunk in a bar – but Harry was in the mood for just that.

They met up around 9 and Harry was hungry as hell because he spent the afternoon in the workshop, never even taking a break to eat and drinking on an empty stomach wasn’t the wisest of his choices, but then again, very few of his choices _were_ wise.

He explained a bit about Louis to Nick on the phone, so when Nick entered the bar he tapped him on the back and uttered the words Harry knew he would.

“I told you I didn’t like him. Just forget about the dickhead.”

“That’s what tonight’s all about,” Harry said, raising the glass in his hand.

“Is that rum? Are you drinking rum?” Nick laughed as he took a sit next to him and ordered himself a beer.

“So what if I am?”

“Then this is worse that I thought,” Nick concluded, but his next order matched Harry’s and Harry smiled at him because he was glad he had such a good friend.

Harry’s motions already started resembling Jack Sparrow’s when he told Nick that Louis is actually the one at loss here.

“I give excellent blowjobs. And I’m nice guy. Am I not nice?”

“You’re nice,” Nick agreed with a laugh. “And I can’t be sure about that first one, but judging by your lips, I would dare to say that’s true as well.”

“Thank you,” Harry said politely, like he was trying to prove his niceness.

“Aren’t you going to get that?” Nick asked when Harry’s phone started ringing, for what was probably the fifth time.

“No, let it ring. Whoever it is needs to learn that they can’t always get what they want. That’s just not how life fucking works,” Harry responded and Nick looked like he was surprised that that actually made some sense.

“They can thank me later,” Harry added in an afterthought and raised his hand to signal the bartender that they were ready for another round.

But Nick pushed his hand down and said “I think we’ve had enough. Let’s go.”

“I don’t want to go home, Harry whined but still put on the coat Nick had hold out for him. “Liam and Zayn aren’t talking to each other. And that shit’s stressful.”

“Fine, you can stay at my place. Let’s just go.”

“Do you have any rum at home?” Harry asked, but Nick’s place sounded appealing enough even without the rum.

“I have wine,” Nick said with a shrug.

“Aren’t you a classy bastard.”

Nick laughed and then shook his head. He was a lot steadier on his feet that Harry was and Harry blamed it on the years of experience that he himself lacked. “But you’re drinking water from now on.”

“That’s no fun,” Harry commented and he knew Nick was going to make some lame ass joke before he even opened his mouth.

“No fun is my middle name.”

Even lamer that Harry had imagined.

Nick’s place could have easily passed for an art gallery. Harry has been there once before, but he was sober then, so he knew how to control his amazement.

Now, however, he couldn’t stop himself from making every stupid little comment that came to his mind.

“That woman has three boobs,” he said, pointing at a large painting of four women sunbathing.

“And you have four nipples.”

“Hey!” Harry complained but Nick just smirked at him so Harry grinned and asked “Why do you even have naked women on your wall? You’re gay.”

“That’s called art and I’m failing you for that,” Nick said and smirked again and Harry found the way the corner of his lips shoot upwards extremely appealing so he kissed him without even thinking twice about it.

Nick kissed him back equally as forcefully, and it felt a bit strange because Nick was taller than him and Louis was shorter, but it still felt good so he kept it going.

They were in Nick’s living room and they stumbled back to his couch and Nick pushed him down and climbed on top of him. Their lips and their bodies moved together and when Nick let out a muffled moan, somehow through his drunkenness Harry realized that as great as Nick was, he still couldn’t give him what he really needed.

If Louis had wanted it, the two of them could have had something more.

But with Nick it was different. Far more complicated. Even if Nick _did_ want them to be something more, it still wasn’t possible.

And that’s why Harry decided to be honest.

“I think I’m in love with Louis,” he murmured when Nick’s lips pulled away from his for a moment to leave a trail down his neck.

Nick sat up on top of him and stared at him in wonder for a moment before saying “You met him like a week ago.”

“Ten days,” Harry corrected and then he sat up as well, with Nick still straddling him and let his head drop on Nick’s chest.” I know, I’m an idiot, but I thought you should know before we actually do this.”

Nick laughed loudly and Harry looked up to find him looking terribly amused.

“Do what?” he asked through his laughter.

Harry couldn’t stop thinking about the pressure in his pants and how Nick’s was still on top of him and he kind of wished he kept his mouth shut.

“You know...” was all Harry managed to say.

“I’m not going to be your rebound guy. I’m risking too much as it is...”

“You’re not. My rebound, I mean... C’mon Nick, forget I said anything,” Harry urged and tried to kiss him again, but Nick got up and started walking towards the hall they came through on their way in.

“I’ll get you a pillow and a blanket. The couch’s old but not that bad to sleep in,” he told him on his way out.

Harry couldn’t care less that the couch was old but the fact that it could only fit one person worried him a bit.

When Nick came back carrying a huge white pillow and a maroon blanket, he layed it out on the couch for him and whispered “I always said you fall in love too easily” before rustling his hair and wishing him a good night.

Harry fell asleep wrapped up in maroon and finally understanding what Zayn meant when he said that we should be able to control who we fall in love with.

Nick woke him up early the next morning and Harry felt guilty when he saw the bags under his eyes and the huge mug full of what he guessed was coffee in his hand.

Nick brought one for him as well, and Harry took a hold of it gratefully.

“Sorry,” he said before taking a sip and burning his tongue.

“For what?” Nick asked, smirking again and Harry kind of wished he would stop doing that. He blamed that smirk of his for the whole mess.

“For making you teach a class sleep deprived and hung over.”

“It won’t be the first time,” Nick responded with a smile and Harry was incredibly glad that they could still talk without the awkwardness taking over.

Nick drove him to campus, but before Harry got out of a car, Nick asked him to be discrete because “There were already rumours about it before, and I grew kind of fond of my job”.

Harry nodded and said “Of course” but he was already convincing himself that telling Zayn doesn’t count as not being discrete.

As he walked to his first class he checked his phone and saw that all the missed calls were from Zayn and Liam and that he had some more from that morning that he didn’t hear because he put his phone on silent.

He called Zayn and he answered after only one ring, sounding too awake for 8 am. Especially considering that he was Zayn and that just the mere fact that he was up and functioning before noon was a success.

_“Where are you? And where were you all night? And why didn’t you answer your phone? We need to talk to you.”_

“We?” Harry asked, ignoring all of his questions.

_“Yeah, me and Liam. I painted something else last night and it will be a murder, an Asian guy will get shot- I mean he won’t, because we stopped it. It’s incredible actually, I don’t know how I never thought about it before. I mean, just the fact that we decided to stop it will do it, you know? The future will change. It’s incredible.”_

“What? Slow down, Zayn. How do you know the future changed?”

_“Because I haven’t slept all night and I painted something again this morning and it changed, Harry, we did it. Liam called the police from the payphone, hey did you know those things actually work, they’re not just for tourists?”_

“Yes, I did, and how come you called the police now, but when I tried to convince you to do it, you were totally against it?”

_“I didn’t know you it was a shooting then, are you even listening to a word I’m saying?”_

“I’m trying to.”

_“Okay, just meet us at cafeteria for lunch later and we’ll explain everything then.”_

“When did Liam become your alley in this?”

_“Sometime after I told him I loved him.”_

“What?”

Of all the things Zayn said this surprised Harry the most.

_“Yeah, but he’s still trying to figure out what to do with that. It’s kind of annoying really, but I’m trying not to think about it so fuck you for reminding me.”_

“Are you on crack?”

_“No, I’m on red bull. Meet us by the food at noon.”_

Zayn hanged up before Harry managed to tell him that he had a class until 12:15. It didn’t matter though, Harry might as well skip it, with so much that has happened it’s not like he’ll be able to pay attention anyway.


	6. came to my senses, let go of my defenses

“Slow down! Or you’ll end up choking on those chips,” Liam said, staring at Zayn and looking half amused, half worried.

“‘m hungry,” Zayn responded once he swallowed the large amount of food in his mouth. “And what’s taking Harry so long?”

Harry walked in less than a minute after and joined them at their table without even getting something to eat first.

Zayn concluded that he was hungrier for news then he was for food.

“Start from the beginning,” Harry instructed as soon as he sat down, and then took a long look between Liam and him, like he was trying to take notice of any change between the two of them.

Zayn wasn’t sure it the change was actually visible, but he could sure feel it. It seemed like Liam understood him better now, but at the same time, without some kind of response from him, Zayn felt utterly lost.

He did as Harry told him and recounted everything about how he painted a hooded guy aiming his gun at a middle-aged Asian man, how he got freaked out and how he and Liam decided that they should anonymously call the police. He told him how he wasn’t sure if that was enough, so he hasn’t slept all night and in the morning he painted another painting, one where the police arrested the hooded guy.

“We’re still debating whether we should go to the embassy and make sure nothing bad actually happens,” Zayn added and even though Liam didn’t looked thrilled that he included him in that “we”, somehow Zayn was pretty sure that he would accompany him there if he asked him.

“But if they’ll arrest him, what can happen?” Harry asked and he didn’t look too excited about the idea of visiting that street corner, either.

“Probably nothing, but I’d still like to make sure.”

“The police will handle it, I don’t think we should interfere,” Liam said and offered Harry his apple which Harry took hold of gladly, even though he was eying Liam in disbelief.

“So you actually believe Zayn now? When he says that he can paint the future?” he asked, and it was a fair question, one to which Zayn never exactly got his answer to.

“I accept that it’s a possibility,” Liam said with unease. “Not one that I quite understand, but I’m giving it a chance.”

“And if you see the Asian guy and his potential killer today, you’ll know for sure,” Zayn stated, trying to sound like that wasn’t the real reason he wanted to go check it out – but in fact, just an added bonus.

“I don’t need proof,” Liam responded, but Zayn laughed because yes, yes he did.

“Not if it will put us in danger,” Liam added and Zayn thought how that made more sense now.

“We won’t be in any danger! There’ll be police there and they’ll arrest him and we will just play the part of innocent bystanders.”

“We’ll see,” Liam said, sounding like a father telling his children that they might go to Disneyland, even though he has no attention on taking them there whatsoever.

That frustrated Zayn (and made him wonder if he was wrong before, when he thought Liam would come with him) and alongside all the other frustration Liam was already causing him, made him decide to try to get his mind to focus on something else, so he asked Harry “So where have you been last night?”

Harry spared a glance at Liam and hesitated for a moment before saying “I stayed at Nick’s.”

“What?” Liam let out, his eyebrows rising and eyes widening.

“Did you talk about Rodin and watch French movies all night or what?” Zayn wondered, because the option of Harry fucking their professor (especially since he knew him to still be into Louis – despite all odds) seemed less logical.

“No,” Harry said, rolling his eyes. “But we didn’t really do anything either... I mean we kissed, but that’s about it.”

“Harry, you do realize that-“ Liam began but Harry cut him off before he managed to get to the part where he would warn him to think about what he’s getting himself into.

“Yes, I realize everything, Li, but it doesn’t matter because I’m pretty sure it’s not going to go any further, anyway.”

“So you can calm down now, before you give yourself a heart attack,” Zayn advised Liam, who, judging by the look he gave him, didn’t appreciate his advice much.

“What about Louis?” Liam asked, and when Harry’s head dropped at the mention of him, Zayn had a sudden urge to break that pretty actor boy’s nose.

“He wants us to be just friends,” Harry explained and hearing the disappointment in his voice only made Zayn’s urge grow stronger.

“Oh,” Liam said quietly. “I’m sorry.”

“Louis is the one who should be sorry,” Zayn said, and he was pretty sure that aggressive urge of his showed in the way his jaw line tightened and his hands curled up in fists.

Harry gave him a weak little smile and Zayn knew that, even if when Liam finally decides to speak, he speaks the words Zayn doesn’t want to hear, he will at least have someone to drown his sorrows with.

-

“We should go,” Harry said for what was probably the twentieth time, and by now he’d even managed to convince himself that it was a good idea.

“He hasn’t slept all night, I’m not going to wake him up for this,” Liam said determinedly and Harry had no chance but to play low.

“He’ll hate us we don’t. Or if we, at least, don’t go and make sure ourselves.”

Liam looked like he considered that possibility for a moment before he quickly casted it away. “He’ll get over it.”

“Well I’m going, you do whatever you want,” Harry said, already putting his shoes on.

He was scared, but there was something in his mind telling him that if all of Zayn’s painting came true, why would the one where the hooded guy gets arrested be any different. So basically, he was scared for no reason.

He had already put his coat on and checked his pockets for his phone and keys when Liam took a deep sigh and said “Wait! I’m coming, too.”

Harry smiled widely and Liam just shook his head at him.

“Should I call Nick?” Harry asked once they were out of the building and walking towards the bus stop.

“Why? “

“He could help us- you know if something goes wrong,” Harry said and then quickly added “Not that I think it will, but just in case.”

“If you want my honest opinion, I’d rather you’d just stay away from him,” Liam told him with a serious expression and Harry thought how, judging by Liam’s reaction to him, one would think that Nick was a serial killer or something.

“In that case I _don’t_ want your honest opinion, but thanks,” Harry said, but decided not to call him after all.

Not because Liam would mind, but because Zayn would.

They left him sleeping in the apartment, and if he found out they took someone else with him but didn’t have the decency to wake him up, he would be even more pissed that he was sure to be anyway.

“Would you rather I lied to you?” Liam asked, rising his eyebrows.

“No,” Harry said honestly. He wanted to tell him that he could be a little more understanding, to him _and_ to himself, but there was no point talking about the first one and it wasn’t a good time to talk about the second.

They got there with 10 minutes to spare, so they made camp in front of the embassy, pretending like they’re waiting for someone.

When it all actually happened it turned out to be significantly less exciting that Harry had imagined. But it also went down just as smoothly as he’d hoped for.

They didn’t get to see much. All they saw was two policemen arresting a tall, white guy in a black hoodie across the street. They didn’t even get a glimpse of the Asian man, but Liam said that the scene looked just like Zayn had painted it and he looked impressed so Harry knew that he finally got  rid of all the doubt.

“Let’s go,” Liam turned to him, once the police cars drove away.

They walked back to the bus stop in silence, up until Liam broke it with “He can actually paint the future. I mean, that’s unbelievable, how did that even happen?”

“I don’t know,” Harry responded and laughed, because Liam looked and sounded like he was hearing about it for the very first time.

“But it’s incredible. He’s incredible,” Liam said as they reached the stop and sat on the red bench.

“Then why are you hesitating?”

Liam obviously knew what Harry was referring to because he asked “He told you everything, didn’t he?”

Harry nodded.

“It’s just complicated, you know? And scary, I guess. I mean..I- It’s not that I don’t-“  Liam started and then  chuckled and looked away and Harry didn’t urge him to finish the sentence because it was easy enough to make out what he wanted to say.

“Just because something scares you, doesn’t mean that it isn’t right. It doesn’t mean that it won’t make you happy. It’s the other way around actually. We’re only really scared when it matters.”

Harry knew this to be true because he was scared a lot. He was scared when Zayn was depressed, when he wasn’t sure how Liam felt, whenever he was working on a new piece and whenever he was in love, when his mum told him she was getting married again, when he risked his friendship with Nick. And all of these things mattered a lot.

“When did you become so smart?” Liam asked with an impressed tone.

Harry laughed. “I’ve always been smart. You all just failed to notice that.”

Liam smiled and their bus arrived and as soon as they got on it Harry’s phone vibrated in his pocket, alerting him of a new message from Ed.

_grimmy just got fired_

And then five seconds after came another one.

_whats going on with you two?_

Harry’s heart started racing and his first instinct was to call Nick and find out if this was true. But if it was, and he was the one to blame and Nick didn’t tell him himself then he probably didn’t want to talk to him.

“What happened?” Liam asked and a part of Harry didn’t want to tell him because there’s bound to be some form _I told you so_ in his response.

But he told him anyway, because coming from Liam, even an _I told you so_ sounds somewhat kind.

“Nick got fired.”

-

Zayn never got out of bed as quickly as he had just now when he peered over at the alarm clock at his night stand and saw that it was past 7 pm.

He never even planned on going to sleep, he must had been so tired that he just passed out.

He walked over to the living room and saw Harry and Liam eating pizza and watching a game on TV.

“What the hell are you doing?” he yelled as he blocked their view of the screen.

“Calm down, Zayn,” Liam said to him, while Harry just raised the slice in his hand and pointed to the screen to answer his question without having to talk with his mouth full.

“Why didn’t you wake me up?”

“You needed to get some sleep,” Liam responded softly.

“What I needed was to make sure no one died,” Zayn said and his hands started pulling on his hair and he couldn’t help but wonder when this frustration was going to end.

Liam looked more concern about his lack of sleep than his mental well-being and Harry looked like he couldn’t be bothered by this because he had bigger things to worry about, and yeah, Louis sucked and what he did to Harry sucked but this was about someone’s fucking life.

“No one died,” Liam assured him, and before Zayn managed to ask how he would know that, he added “We went down there to make sure. Everything happened just like you painted it.”

“Really?” Zayn voiced out and Harry finally looked at him and nodded.

“I still think you should have woken me up,” Zayn said as he took the sit on the couch between them and grabbed the last slice of pizza.

“Liam wouldn’t let me,” Harry explained and checked his phone for what was the third time since Zayn had woken up and started yelling at them and Zayn now felt bad for thinking that he was being selfish.

“It’s probably better if he doesn’t text you,” he told him and at first he wasn’t sure if Harry had even heard him, because he said nothing and his curls were falling into his eyes so Zayn couldn’t see them.

Then he finally raised his head and asked “Who?”

“Louis,” Zayn said swiftly. “Isn’t that why you’re checking your phone every three seconds?”

“No, I’m checking to see if Nick sent me anything,” Harry said and pulled his phone out again.

Zayn looked at him in confusion and then turned to look over at Liam who thankfully decided to explain.” Nick got fired this afternoon.”

“What? Why?”

“What do you think?” Harry asked, sounding irritated and laughing probably wasn’t the wisest thing Zayn could have done.

“Oh c’mon! How would anyone find out? And even if they did, they couldn’t just fire him the same fucking day.”

“I don’t know, but they did,” Harry said and he looked like he was on the verge of crying so Zayn pulled a serious face and put an arm around his shoulder.

“It’s not your fault.”

“Of course it is.”

“Liam?” Zayn called because Liam should be the one who’s good at this kind of things.

Liam sighed and said “I told him that already, but he won’t believe me.”

“Because you don’t really mean it,” Harry said quietly and then added “Can we just watch the game?”

So they watched the game, but Harry still checked his phone every 5 seconds until the game finished and someone knocked on their door.

Liam got up to answer it, and a few moments later walked back into the room with Nick at his heels, looking too cheerful for someone who’d just lost his job.

Harry jumped at the sight of him and Zayn stifled a laugh.

“What are you doing here?” Harry asked as he walked over to Nick and Zayn thought he was going to hug him but he ended up just extending his arms awkwardly and then pulling them back and stuffing his hands in his pockets.

“Well as you probably know, because these things travel around campus faster than Edward Cullen runs, I got fired today. And since now I want to get drunk really badly and since I acted as your drinking buddy yesterday, it’s time for you to return the favour,” Nick said all in one breathe. He then obviously noticed that there were two more people in the room, so he extended the invitation to Liam and Zayn as well.

“I have an exam on Friday. And I didn’t really get to study a lot these last two days, so...” Liam excused himself quickly and Zayn didn’t doubt it for a second that it’d be better for him to stay behind, too.

“I have a lot of work to catch up with, too,” he said and Nick shrugged and told Harry “I guess it’s just the two of us.”

Harry smiled a confused smile and announced that he’s going to go and get dressed before leaving Zayn in a hilariously uncomfortable situation, with Nick standing on one side of him and Liam sitting on the other.

“We never actually met,” Nick said after a moment. “I’m Nick,” he added and extended his hand to Liam, who shook it quickly and introduced himself.

“Do you want to sit down?” Zayn offered Nick when he remained standing there in front of Liam.

“Sure,” Nick accepted and took a sit on the armchair and smiled at them.

“So how exactly did you get fired?” Zayn asked once he couldn’t hold his curiosity at bay any longer.

Nick leaned forward like he was about to recount a deeply interesting story and Zayn couldn’t help but wonder if he had already started with that drinking therapy.

“You know Hughes? He's that old, grumpy guy who does more patrolling around the campus than actual teaching. Well, anyway, he saw Harry coming out of my car this morning and reported it to the dean, and since there were rumours about it before, the dean called me in for a chat. Now, I could’ve deny it all, because I mean, I would only actually be half lying, but our lovely dean made it sound like the problem was more in the fact that I hooked up with a _male_ student than a _student_ , and that got on my nerves so I didn't deny a thing. So it's my fault, actually.”

“I knew there was a reason I didn't like Hughes,” Zayn said once Nick finished talking and leaned back on the armchair. “Or came to any of his lessons,” he added with a laugh and Nick joined in.

Harry walked into the room then and Nick got up immediately and Harry sent a “See you later” to Zayn and Liam. Nick waved and then they were off and Zayn and Liam were left alone.

It hit Zayn in that moment that Liam still had to give him some kind of a response.

Instead of doing that, Liam walked over to his piano and started moving his fingers across the keys.

He always played when he wanted to relax. The piano was to him like fruit was to Harry. Or like painting was to Zayn before the whole future thing happened.

The song didn’t sound familiar to Zayn so he asked “What’s that?”

“Just something I’ve been working on,” Liam said humbly, like he had no idea how freaking good that something actually sounded.

“You wrote that?”

“Yeah,” Liam let out and waved him over with his head. “C’mon, sit.”

Zayn joined him at the bench and something about the whole thing seemed very intimate. He liked it.

“When you paint, do you ever imagine certain people being represented by a certain shade?” Liam suddenly asked, without breaking the song. “Or style maybe?”

“Yeah,” Zayn came up with an answer easily. “When I paint portraits I always imagine the person’s personality in my head. And then I try to represent that. And well, colours help. So like, red would mean passionate, baby blue relaxed, midnight blue mysterious, citron yellow evil or mean-“

“Why citron yellow?” Liam cut him off.

“I don’t know,” Zayn laughed. “It’s just an evil looking colour.”

Liam nodded solemnly like he had pondered deeply and came to the conclusion that yes, indeed, citron yellow was an evil looking colour. “So what colour would I be?”

That was a difficult question. Liam had many layers, so it was hard for Zayn to think of just one colour.

“You’d be...Mint,” he finally settled for. Mint was beautiful and calming and kind but sometimes hard to look at for too long.

“Fair enough,” Liam said with a grin. “I do the same thing with music you know.”

Zayn must have looked confused because Liam decided to show him. “For example. this would be Harry.”

He changed the song he was playing to a free-flowing tune that was upbeat enough to dance to it, but was also the kind of melody you could feel comfortable just listening to. It was energetic and relaxing at the same time and Zayn never thought about what people sounded like but Liam had just shown him how Harry did.

“That’s amazing!” he exclaimed truthfully. “What would I sound like?”

“A little differently,” Liam said and changed the song to a more melancholic sound, which progressed slowly towards dramatic. The song was complex but absolutely beautiful and Liam’s fingers moved effortlessly but decidedly, and he didn’t look up like he did when he was playing Harry’s song, but focused all of his intention on it instead.

It was hard for Zayn to tell if the song fit him like Harry’s did to him, he couldn’t really be objective when it came to himself. But just the fact that Liam saw him like that...well, that was more than enough.

“I could be wrong, though,” Liam said when he ended the song and Zayn shook his head aggressively.

“No, you’re not,” he let out and Liam smiled, a close lip smile that sent sparks down Zayn’s spine.

Liam finished the song and then looked up at him and said “I think I know now.”

“What?”

“What I want to say.”

“Okay,” Zayn responded and luckily his voice didn’t give out the nerves he started to feel.

“It’s not fucked up,” Liam said and it wasn’t exactly how Zayn expected him to begin.

“Okay?”

“I mean. I’m fucked up, or I was fucked up, but- You’re not. And this isn’t.”

Zayn hadn’t heard Liam say _fuck_ so many times in a row for a long time, and he was little too struck by that to make full sense of what Liam was saying.

Liam stared at him expectedly and a little exasperatedly, until he just sighed and let out “I love you too, okay? Did I make that clear enough now? Should I say it again?”

“Yes,” Zayn barely voiced. He definitely needed to hear that again because he had hard time believing that Liam had said it at all.

“I love you, Zayn,” Liam complied.

Zayn smiled widely and said “I love you, too”  before doing what he had dreamed about for the last four years and crashing his lips against Liam’s.

As first kisses go, this one was definitely the best Zayn ever experienced. And it wasn’t because Liam was such a great kisser or even because he had waited for this for so long, it was simply because it was _Liam_ , and he loved Liam and somehow, Liam loved him back.

It was the first time he was kissing someone he was in love with and it felt better then finishing up a painting he’s been working on for days. Better than getting goose bumps while listening to great music, better than getting high. Heck, it felt better than all of those things combine.

And Zayn would probably never let go, if he hadn’t remembered that this was their first kiss. And that Liam had never actually kissed a guy before.

So he pulled away and mumbled “Sorry, I wasn’t thinking. Is this a little too fast?”

Liam looked stunned as he smiled goofily and responded “No, it’s fine.”

“Good,” Zayn concluded and kissed him again.

-

“You’re sulking more than me. That isn’t how this is supposed to go down,” Nick complained right before he downed his fourth vodka shot.

“Sorry,” Harry said. “But I feel really bad about this.”

“It’s Hughes’ fault. And then mine. Haven’t I explained everything?”

Harry didn’t even bother responding, he just gave Nick a look that said _Stop being so nice to me, I cost you your job._

“You know, I don’t even want to work for jerks of that kind. I’ll open up my own gallery or something,” Nick said, waving his hand to the bartender to signal him he’s ready for the next round.

“Just start charging the entrance to your apartment, that should work well enough,” Harry advised and Nick laughed a little too loudly.

“I said a gallery, not a brothel, little fellow.”

Harry laughed at the nickname, but then pulled a serious face because he needed to ask a serious question. And he needed to ask it while Nick still wasn’t pissed of his mind.

“Hey Nick, have you given us a thought now? I mean, now that you’re not my professor anymore, nothing is really stopping us,” he said, in what he hoped for was not a completely pathetic manner.

Nick laughed again. “That wouldn’t be a good idea. When I said I’m risking too much, my job wasn’t what I was referring to.”

“Then what?” Harry wondered.

“Doesn’t matter,” Nick responded and downed the shot the bartender has just put in front of him.

“Harry!” Harry heard someone call from behind him and he turned to see a blonde hair attached to a red smiling face approaching him.

He greeted him with “Hey Niall!” and smiled back until he spot a less blonde hair attached to a less red but still smiling face walking behind him.

Louis was the last person he wanted to see right now.

Niall punched his shoulder to greet him and Louis came to stand beside him and said “Hi!”, but Harry was still in a bit of shock so he didn’t say anything.

“Hey, friends of Harry!” Nick yelled and Niall looked delighted to be called that way.

“I’m Nick,” Nick said and extended his hand to each of them. When Louis shook it and introduced himself Nick started laughing like crazy. Harry shot him a look, so he pulled himself together and said “Sorry, before saying “Hi, Louis, I heard so much about you.”

Louis looked at Harry questioningly, and Harry’s cheeks flamed up and he wished Nick wasn’t drunk. But then again, he wasn’t sure if that would make much difference.

“I wish I could say the same about you,” Louis responded. “How did you two meet?”

“In the classroom, I was his professor until today,” Nick said without missing a beat.

“Until today? Wait, did you say your name was Nick? Are you Nick Grimshaw?” Louis asked and Harry waved his hand to the bartender because, of course Louis would know about that and he needed a drink.

Nick just smiled and Louis seemingly took that to mean _yes_ because he turned to Harry. “Are you the student, then?”

Harry wasn’t sure what to say. Niall looked just as confused as him, but he seemed to have let that bother him significantly less and Nick just smiled and once again, Louis seemed to take that as a _yes._

“So is this a date?” he asked in a less friendly tone, and Harry said “No” because as Nick had made it clear just before Niall and Louis arrived, that was the truth.

“This is just two friends drowning their sorrows together. Me, because I’m freshly unemployed and Harry because you’re a dick,” Nick explained as eloquently as he could.

Niall started laughing and Harry didn’t know if he should laugh or cry. Louis just looked angry as he said “What?”

“He’s drunk, don’t mind him,” Harry announced to try and keep things from getting any messier.

“Let’s go,” Louis told Niall, who was still laughing and waved at Harry before turning around to follow after his cousin.

“The blonde one seems fun,” Nick said once they left. “You should have picked him instead of the fairy gossip girl.”

“The blonde one’s straight,” Harry said, but then remembered Niall’s little experiment with Zayn. “Well mostly straight,” he added.

He thought about whether he should tell Nick off for calling Louis a dick to his face, but he wasn’t sure if  Nick would even remember it and he still felt guilty Nick lost his job because of him, so he just drank the vodka the bartender finally laid out in front of him.

He ended up having to half drag Nick out of the bar and half drag him out of the cab to his apartment.

But when he arrived home, Zayn was laying across Liam’s chest on the couch and for a moment Harry forgot how miserable he felt because his two best friends had never looked more happy.


	7. old faces, changing places

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be the last chapter, but things change, so it's not. :) I realized that I couldn't wrap this thing up as fast as I thought I could, so if this was the last one it would have been a very long one, and it would've taken me even longer time to update so I've decided to split it up.  
> Hopefully it won't take me this long the get the last one (the real last one) out.

Zayn woke up to find a pair of brown eyes staring at him intensely.

“Hey,” he heard Liam say, his face less than a foot away from Zayn’s own.

“Hi,” Zayn muttered back in his morning voice and Liam’s answering smile was enthralling. It started from the right corner of his mouth and spread until his teeth were showing and his eyes were glowing.

Zayn smiled back and moved his head close enough to peck Liam’s lips.

The kiss reminded him that last night wasn’t just a dream and that Liam _did_ actually love him. Happiness spread through his veins like a drug and he wondered how it was even possible that everything could change so much in a matter of days.

“Should we get up?” Liam asked then and Zayn shook his head immediately.

“No chance in hell.”

Liam laughed, and he was still so close that Zayn could feel his breath.

“We have classes to get to,” Liam reminded him and Zayn sighed because even though he wouldn’t mind missing them in order to stay in bed and cuddle a little bit longer, he knew that Liam was far more reasonable.

“We should probably check on Harry as well,” Liam added, right before he kissed him, got up and searched his closet for a shirt to put on.

Zayn stayed laying there, his eyes browsing the curve of Liam’s back. He promised himself he’d be patient, after all he waited for so long, it won't kill him to wait a bit longer if it'll mean making Liam feel comfortable and not screwing things up before they’ve barely even started.

Liam chose a plain dark blue shirt and he exchanged his pyjama pants for the pair of jeans he wore yesterday and he smiled at Zayn before he left the room. Zayn wondered if he should just go back to sleep because he was laying in Liam’s bed and even though Liam wasn’t there next to him anymore, everything still smelled of him and that made it good enough.

Harry ruined his plans, though, because two minutes later he ran into the room, yelled “Finally!” and jumped on the bed and hugged him so tight that Zayn thought he was going to suffocate.

“Finally what?” Zayn asked once Harry decided to allow him to breathe, even though he was fairly certain he knew the answer.

Harry seemed fairly certain he did, too, because he ignored his question and asked  “Am I going to have to invest in ear plugs?”

“No. At least not yet.”

“Okay, but warn me when the time comes.”

“Of course,” Zayn said sarcastically, but Harry just smiled. “By the way, how did it go last night? You seem a little bit _too_ happy.”

His smile faded a bit. “Nick got drunk off his mind and Louis showed up and he thinks Nick and I fucked and Nick called him a dick.”

“So. A fun night.”

“Yeah, but it’s okay. I decided that today I’m just going to be happy ‘cause of you too and not think about all that shit.”

“You’ll forget about him soon enough,” Zayn said, but judging from the way Harry looked down and sighed, he didn’t quite agree.

Liam peered through the door then, his jacket on and his Batman messenger bag across his shoulder. “I have to go guys, or I’ll be late. I’ll meet you for lunch, okay?”

Harry and Zayn both nodded, but Liam stood there hesitating, staring at Zayn and looking like he’s unsure of what to do.

“You can kiss your boyfriend goodbye in front of me, Li, it’s okay” Harry said laughingly.

Liam’s cheeks turned red and he didn’t move an inch so Zayn got up, walked to him and kissed him on the lips lightly, before saying quietly “See you at lunch.”

Liam smiled and left then, and when Zayn jumped back in bed, Harry looked at him with a shit eating grin.

“Shut up,” Zayn told him and threw a pillow at his face.

-

When Louis said he wanted them to be friends, Harry thought it was just an excuse. He didn’t imagine Louis could’ve actually _meant_ it, especially not after Nick insulted him right to his face.

But everywhere Harry turned to, his bright eyes and that stupid grin followed him around.

Okay, maybe not everywhere, but still far too often. How was Harry supposed to get over him when he and Niall joined them at lunch every time they would spot them at the cafeteria?

When Niall would come to their place every other day talking about Louis’ attempt to make dinner that almost ended up in their kitchen burning down or his new play or how he started volunteering at the local children’s home (and that one was the worse because how the hell was he supposed to fall out of love with someone who did things like that??).

When Louis and Niall threw parties almost every week and would always invite Liam, Zayn and him and when Harry couldn’t even say no because he wasn’t going to be the one to ruin everybody’s fun just because a boy turned him down.

So two months later, he found himself still as in love with Louis as he was at the beginning.

 

“You haven’t got plans for tonight, have you?” Niall asked him on Valentine’s day and Harry was a bit offended at how easily he jumped to that conclusion.

“No,” he still said because it was the truth.

“Great, we’re going out then.”

“We are?”

“You got a better idea?” Niall laughed and Harry just shrugged because no, he didn’t.

Liam and Zayn are going out for dinner anyway, Ed’s meeting up with a girl he met last week and Nick’s in Paris.

Harry then prepared to ask what had to be asked. “What about Louis?

“He’s not coming, he’s got a date,” Niall said unfazed, reaching to grab a handful of crisps from the bowl on the coffee table.

 _Great_ , Harry thought. _Just perfect._

“Oh and you’re driving ‘cause I’m drinking,” Niall said barely coherently through a full mouth. “Pick me up at 10.”

“Should I bring flowers?”

“No,” Niall laughed. “But I wouldn’t mind some chocolate.”

  

“We’re leaving,” Zayn called out from the entrance hall.

“Finally!” Harry yelled back from the kitchen where he was making himself a sandwich, probably the most pathetic Valentine’s day meal he had in years.

He was waiting to hear the door being shut so that he would know for sure that they had left and that there will be no more running around and Liam trying to find _that_ particular shirt or Zayn complaining about how he’s hair is all messed up today.

But Liam peered into the kitchen and Harry barely restrained himself from asking _What now?_ out loud.

“Are you going to be fine?” Liam asked in a worried voice and Harry had to admit that he looked nice in his green plaid shirt, but that didn’t mean that he was any less annoyed at him for acting like an overprotective mother.

“No, I’m going to go drown myself in the bathtub because you two refuse to leave.”

“That’s not funny.”

“It’s a little bit funny,” Zayn said as he appeared in the doorway as well. He smiled at Harry and told him to have fun tonight before taking Liam’s hand and almost dragging him out of the apartment.

Harry got a text from Nick right as he was about to take the first bite of his sandwich.

_paris is so depressing today_

And then three seconds later:

_if i jump from the eiffel tower will you feed my cat for me?_

_**you don’t have a cat** _

Harry realized after he hit _send_ that that probably wasn’t the part of the text he should’ve commented on. But if Nick had a cat, Harry would’ve certainly had known.

_i found one a week ago, didn’t i tell you that?_

**_no._ **

_don’t be mad. i’ll let you pet it next time you come to mine’s_

_**you better** _

_so demanding. why do i even like you?_

Harry was in the middle of backspacing the first answer he typed out ( ** _i wonder the same thing_** ) and trying to think of a witty replacement, when he got another text. And then two more right after.

_don’t answer that_

_what was i even thinking, giving you a chance to brag?_

_got to go now, talk to you later_

Well, at least now he didn’t have to rack his brain for a witty answer.

 

Later that night, when Harry drove to Niall’s and Louis' place to pick Niall up, Niall was waiting for him with his hands in his pockets and a grin on his face that got even bigger when he realized Harry had actually listened to him and brought him a box of chocolates.

He made grabby hands as soon as he climbed in the passenger seat and Harry handed him the box he was holding and then turned the car around towards the main street.

Niall offered him some of the chocolate but looked a little too happy when Harry refused for him to consider the deed anything other than an attempt to be polite.

“I’ve had the most amazing day,” Niall let out when they’ve already been driving for a few minutes.

“Yeah? How so?”

“Well I’ve skipped my morning class and managed to sleep in a bit. Then Lou and I went to get pancakes for breakfast, which were freakishly delicious. I got phone numbers from two girls from campus because today girls get lonely or something like that and now you brought me chocolate.”

“I’m glad I managed to contribute to your most amazing day,” Harry said honestly and Niall gave him a look that was pure gratification.

Social was already full when they got there, which was quite unusual for a Thursday but Harry thought that it probably wasn’t so unusual for Valentine’s day.

They went straight for the bar and each of them ordered a pint with the difference being that Harry was planning on stopping there while Niall proclaimed he was only warming up.

“I bet I’m the best looking Valentine you’ve had in years,” Niall screamed in his ear, even louder than the noisy background music demanded to.

“Of course you are,” Harry told him with a grin and Niall smiled in satisfaction before he turned his attention to a petite brunette that was looking straight at him and sipping on her cocktail in what she seemed to thing was a seductive manner.

Niall winked at her and Harry laughed at the way the girl almost choked on her drink because of her giggles. Right as Niall said “Excuse me” into his ear and pushed his way to the brunette, Harry felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. He pulled it out and his stomach did a back flip when he saw the name on his screen was Louis’.

“What the hell,” he murmured to himself and of course the music was too loud for anyone to hear him.

He got up quickly and tried to make his way to the exit before the phone stopped ringing.

He managed to reach the cloakroom before he answered it.

“Hello?”

_“Is this Harry?”_

That definitely wasn’t Louis.

“Yes. Who’s this?”

_“I’m Dean, I’m Lou’s date.”_

Louis’ date who was calling Louis Lou. And calling him from Louis’ phone. _How nice._

“Mhmm...Okay?”

Dean laughed and Harry thought he could hear Louis saying something to him in the background and that hurt because it seemed like the two of them were just making fun of him. He wanted to hang up but then Dean stopped laughing and started talking again.

“Look, I just wanted to tell you that Louis’ wearing pink, satin panties right now and that he quite likes it.”

_What?_

“What?”

Dean was laughing again and he could hear Louis saying something in the background again, but this time he could also hear that it sounded something like “Okay, enough now.”

_“Yeah, he’s loving it.”_

“Okay?” Harry said again because saying “I don’t fucking care.” wouldn’t be entirely true.

 _“I got to go now, nice chatting with you_ ,” Dean voiced out quickly before hanging up and Harry stood there for a while, staring at his phone.

“Are you alright?”  a tanned, short haired girl asked him and he just nodded and walked away, determined to go back home and spend the night like he was supposed to in the first place – alone.

He felt a little bit guilty for leaving Niall behind but he told himself that Niall was doing just fine without him.

He texted Nick from the car **_London’s depressing today, too_** but he got no answer. He guessed that Nick found a way to make the day less depressing after all.

He was already at home, looking through his book shelf for something to get his mind off everything he didn’t want to think about when his phone alerted him of a new message.

Naturally, he thought it was from Nick but it ended being from Louis.

_sorry about that, i lost a bet and dean got the right to call everyone from my speed dial and make up something embarrassing_

Harry immediately felt 10 times better. It was probably crazy and that little story could’ve easily been a lie, but Harry chose to believe it.

Also, he couldn’t help but wonder why the heck did Louis have his number on speed dial.

**_so you’re not really wearing pink panties?_ **

_nope :)_

**_thats a shame_ **

There was no answer after that and Harry had to remind himself that Louis was on a date after all. And was probably too busy to text him. It wasn’t a very nice thought, but it was an honest one.

He turned his attention back to the book shelf and his eyes travelled through a few titles until they landed on The Kite Runner. He pulled it out and walked to his bed. He got under the blankets and started reading, but he barely managed to get to the bottom of the first page, where Amir thinks about the words Rahim Khan told him over the phone – _There’s a way to be good again_ , without his mind wondering.

He closed the book and checked his phone to see if either Louis or Nick had texted him back. Neither of them had so Harry decided to just go to sleep.

-

Zayn was such a whipped fool and he knew it.

He never made a decent breakfast in his life, but here he was, in the kitchen at half past 7 in the morning, _awake_ , trying to decide if he should add more milk to his pancake batter.

Or if he should simply wake Harry up, convince him to make the pancakes and then bribe him with tips about his future to let Liam believe Zayn made them himself.

However, he was already half way there, so he concluded that he might as well finish it up alone and save himself from having to lie to his boyfriend.

He decided to add just a bit more milk and another spoonful of sugar just for the sake of it.

He whisked through it for a couple of minutes and then spent a couple of more trying to find the frying pen.

When the first puddle of batter started resembling a pancake in the pen, Zayn decided that this cooking thing was easier than it seemed.

When he flipped his fourth pancake (much less clumsily that he had done with his first), he heard Harry’s voice behind him, asking “What’s wrong with you?”

He turned around to see Harry in his sweats sitting up on one of the bar chairs and looking at him with confused eyes.

“Nothing,” Zayn said. “I’m cooking.”

“I can see that.”

“And I’m good at it.”

Harry raised his head a bit to peer over at the pen and the healthy looking pancakes sitting on a plate next to it. He shrugged as to say _I’m not so sure you are._

“I am! Here, try one,” Zayn said, putting one of the pancakes on an empty plate and handing it over to Harry. He handed him a jar of plum jam and maple syrup as well and then turned back to the stove as not to let the pancake number four burn up.

“It’s edible,” Harry said, once he took a bite and Zayn smiled in satisfaction.

“You look happy,” Harry added as he poured more maple syrup all over his plate.

“You don’t,” Zayn responded, and it wasn’t until he said it that he realized how true it was.

“I’m fine,” Harry said so lamely that Zayn decided he was going to spend less time enjoying himself with Liam and more time cheering up his best friend.

Harry ate his pancake and refused some more when Zayn offered. Instead, he announced he was going to take a shower and Zayn managed to finish pancakes number five and six before Liam walked in the kitchen fully dressed and ready. He smiled widely when he saw Zayn by the stove, wearing Harry’s “compliment the chef” apron.

“That looks and smells really good and I’m sure it tastes even better,” Liam said as he came around the counter and planted a soft kiss on Zayn’s lips.

“You’re supposed to compliment the chef _after_ you try the meal, Li.”

“Well, your instructions aren’t clear enough then.”

“Sorry,” Zayn said unapologetically and grinned until Liam kissed his grin away.

Zayn served them their pancakes and Liam showered him with compliments once again after he tried them and Zayn smiled smugly through the whole thing because he managed to fulfil his promise and what’s more, he managed to do it without any bribing and lying.

When Zayn and Harry got ready, Harry drove them all to the campus and told them on the way there about the call from Louis’ phone last night and about pink satin panties and once Zayn laughed it all out he concluded that that was a dick move from Louis’ part.

It gave him another reason to hate that little actor boy, but the boy just made it so hard. As unwilling as Zayn was to admit it – Louis was fun. He thought he was fun since the first time he met him, when Louis shared his hidden beer with him and made gross comments about Harry’s hands.

When Harry parked the car, they all went their separate ways to their separate classes, agreeing to meet up for lunch as usual. Zayn kissed Liam goodbye and told him to not to sit too close to Niall in their first class – Niall was still hung over from yesterday and he was bringing coffee to class and he was going to spill it all over Liam.

“Well he’s not actually, not anymore, since I just warned you now,” Zayn added and smiled at Liam’s composed face. Not so long ago he would’ve looked at him like he was insane for saying what he’d just said.

"Thanks for saving my hoodie," Liam said. "But do you ever paint stuff about your own future? It’s always either Niall’s clumsiness or Harry’s mum coming to visit or me getting a good grade on a project."

"I don’t want to know my future," Zayn said and Liam stared at him for a moment, looking like he’s trying to read his mind before he checked his watch and Zayn was grateful on Liam’s punctuality because he knew he won’t ask any more questions because that would mean he would be late for his class.

When he left, almost running, Zayn headed for the Art building, his mind still pondering over Liam’s question.

He didn’t lie, he really doesn’t want to know his future. But he forgot to mention - like he has been forgetting to mention it for months now - that he easily could if he wanted to.

He had total control of it now. What he painted and when he painted it. But he chose to paint petty little things because it was easier. It was easier to paint spilled coffee and prevent that from happening than paint murders and fires and accidents and trying to prevent those.

So much about being free by being better.

Zayn selfishly chose to be happy instead.

-

History of art just wasn’t the same without Nick. Their new professor was an old, grumpy looking woman that talked quietly and completely intonation-free, so that not even the hardest working students could pay attention long enough to take notes through her entire lesson.

And Harry felt like every single person in the room knew he was the one to blame for that unfortunate turn of events and resented him for it. Even Ed did.

“I might’ve even forgiven you if you two at least did what you were accused of. But no. We have to endure this crap for no particular reason at all.”

“Sorry,” Harry said and Ed looked at him sternly, probably to let him know that his sorry’s mean nothing to him.

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, like his stare wasn’t clear enough. “Are you coming to Niall and Lou’s party tonight?”

“Is everyone calling him Lou this days?”

“I don’t know. Are they? So, are you coming or not?”

“I guess,” Harry said. Niall has already texted him that he had to come and Zayn and Liam will probably be going as well.

“Wow. Your enthusiasm is so nonexistent that it might even be lower than Barnes’.”

Barnes was their new History of art professor and that was quite an insult but Harry had to laugh. Ed joined in and their laughs caught Barnes’ attention and the pitch of her voice went just a tiny bit higher, which was enough to be considered an attempt in intonation. Harry deemed that a definite progress.

 

Harry did go to Niall’s and Louis’ party after all. And he did get drunk, even though Zayn had warned him that he was going to throw up all around their bathroom and that he should keep that in mind (and Harry thought that keeping it in mind meant _aim better_ , but three pints and five tequila shots later he realized that it might have meant _drink less_ ).

And Louis was there. And Dean might have been there, but Harry didn’t know for sure because he didn’t know what he looked like and he had been avoiding Louis, who was probably the person Dean would be clinging to if he _was_ there.

He hadn’t thrown up all over their bathroom, though. At least not yet.

And there was this skinny, almost white haired girl trying to get him to dance with her and Harry was unsuccessfully trying to explain to her that he can barely walk, let alone dance. She took his hand and dragged him towards the most crowded part of the living room and Harry watched as she danced around him and his head was spinning but he liked it.

She grabbed his shoulders and started turning him from side to side and his head started spinning even faster, but so did his stomach.

He pushed her hands away and barely made his way to the bathroom in time. He didn’t aim quiet well. Or there wasn’t enough time to aim well, he wasn’t sure. However, he _did_ throw up all over Niall’s and Louis’ bathroom.

He needed to sit down. But it smelled in there and he needed to sit down somewhere else.

He made his way out to the hallway and he sat there on the floor. He was tired and he closed his eyes and he was so close to falling asleep when he felt someone shaking him.

“Harry? Are you okay? Don’t fall asleep here.”

Harry opened his eyes and saw that the person shaking him was Louis. He immediately stop as soon as Harry looked at him.

“Hey! Give me a hand!” Louis yelled at someone, and then put one of his arms under Harry’s and that someone did the same with his other side and they lifted him and dragged him – well half dragged him, Harry did make an effort to move his legs – somewhere, a bedroom. They laid him on the bed and Harry closed his eyes for a moment and when he opened them again the only one in the room with him was Louis.

And he wasn’t smiling or laughing, he actually looked serious for once. So it was Harry’s turn to laugh. If only he wasn’t so tired.

He lay there for a while, wondering where Zayn and Liam were. Wondering if Dean was walking around, looking for Louis. Wondering how many people Louis had fucked on that bed Harry was lying in since he had fucked him.

Louis was sitting next to him and Harry thought that that was the reason he couldn’t fall asleep. He was so tired that he should have been able to do it in an instant.

Instead he opened his eyes and managed to ask “Why do you have me on your speed dial?”

Louis’ answer was absolutely shitty. "Why wouldn’t I?"

He then smiled and said “You can sleep here, okay? I need to go and help Niall wrap this thing up.”

Harry nodded and when Louis left and closed the door behind him, he was asleep in a matter of seconds.


	8. words of paint, draw me out

Zayn ignored the bell the first three times, but someone was obviously very keen on waking them up at 8 am on a Saturday, so they rang the bell the fourth and fifth time, too.

“Can you get that?” Zayn heard Liam ask and all he gave him as a response was a low growl that he hoped Liam would figure out means no.

He then felt the bed move as Liam got up and he heard his footsteps as he walked out of the room and towards the front door.

He heard the bell ring once again before there was a sound of the door opening and a loud, hyper “Good morning, Liam!”

It took Zayn a few moments before he realized that that voice belonged to Nick.

Even though Liam grew a bit more accustomed to Nick in the last few months, Zayn knew he still didn’t feel too comfortable around him so he made the ultimate sacrifice and got out of bed.

As he was putting on Liam’s white t-shirt he found at the bottom of the bed he heard Nick asking about Harry and Liam explaining that he’s probably still asleep.

He walked out to the living room and Nick greeted him enthusiastically and instead of greeting him back Zayn just said “It’s 8 am” and tried to keep a stern look that would make Nick realized that that kind of early visits weren’t acceptable in the slightest.

“I know, but I got big news and I need to tell Harry. I’ll go wake him up,” Nick said and almost ran towards Harry’s room.

Liam raised his eyebrows at Zayn and Zayn just shrugged. A few seconds later, Nick walked back in, saying “You need to pay a little more attention to your roommate. He isn’t here.”

“Where is he, then?” Liam asked with a worried expression which Zayn tried to soothe a bit by saying “Maybe he slept over at Niall’s.”

“With Louis there?”  Liam asked, shaking off his suggestion right away with those three simple words.

“Maybe he went home with someone else,” Zayn tried again but Liam didn’t look too convinced.

“He has a phone, you know, “Nick said from behind them and Zayn thought how having a mind that’s actually awake has its benefits.

He laughed and was about to say that he’s going to go and fetch his phone, but Nick beat him to it and was already unlocking the screen to his own phone.

Zayn and Liam watched him as he impatiently looked for Harry’s contact and put the phone to his ear.

“It’s turned off,” Nick said after a few moments. “Just tell him to call me when he comes back,” he added and was out of the apartment in matter of seconds.

Zayn looked at Liam, whose face was a bit too pale, and went to get his phone to call Niall before Liam’s started hyperventilating or something like that.

It ranged about 5 times before Niall finally picked up, his voice hoarse and sleepy.

_“What?”_

“Hey, it’s Zayn. Listen, is Harry still there by any chance?”

_“Yeah, he’s asleep. Just like I was a moment ago.”_

“Ok, thanks. And sorry for waking you up.”

 _“Yeah, yeah”,_ Niall said before he hanged up.

Zayn turned to Liam, who had followed him to his room, and said “He’s fine, he slept over at their place,” before Liam managed to ask anything.

“We shouldn’t have left without him.”

“I know,” Zayn agreed. “But he’s not a little kid. He should be able to take care of himself.”

Liam raised his eyebrows at him, and even though he didn’t say it, Zayn knew that he was thinking something in the lines of _Like you were not so long ago?_

Zayn didn’t blame him, though.  He was right.

He walked over to him and kissed him, because he felt the need to remind him that he wasn’t broken anymore.

-

Harry woke up wishing he hadn’t woken up.

At least not for a bit longer.

Everything hurt and his mouth was so freaking dry and that certainly wasn’t his own bed.

He opened his eyes and they hurt, too. The light was too bright and he could smell his own breathe and it didn’t smell nice.

It took him a couple of moments to realize in whose bed he was. When he managed to do that, he slowly got up into a sitting position and looked around the room, still squinting to make his eyes hurt a bit less.

Louis’ room was colourful and very much alive. His walls were purple, his carpet red with white circles and his bed sheets lilac. He had no posters, but he had a lot of framed pictures on the wall instead. One of them a reduced version of a Marry Poppins Broadway poster. His desk was a mess and his nightstand filled with crap such as chocolate bar wrappers, tow plastic cups and, Harry noticed with a grimace, a condom wrapper.

He suddenly realized that this was the first time he was in Louis’ room alone and he decided to ignore the throbbing in his head for a moment to take advantage of that fact.

He got up and walked towards Louis’ desk quietly. There was a framed picture of four little girls there, two of which were identical and couldn’t have been older than two. His sisters, Harry concluded.

Next to it was another frame, this one holding a picture of two boys, both grinning into the camera. The older one looked like he was twelve and had the same mischievous glow in his eyes as he did today. Louis and Niall.

Harry dig up Ibsen’s Doll House under a stack of paper, and then his eyes caught a very familiar looking book cover. He grabbed it and saw that it was Rodin: A biography by Grunfield.

Why would Louis have _that_ on his desk?

Harry turned it around in his hands and realized that it was a library book. He flipped the last page opened and saw that it was long overdue.

It was funny really – Louis talked a lot, but he also left out a lot. And it kind of seemed that those things he left out were exactly the ones Harry would’ve liked to know.

He put the book back on the desk and turned to check the books on Louis book shelf, but just as he began gazing through the titles, Louis walked in.

“You’re awake?” He asked him with a smile that held a lot of amusement and maybe a bit of worry.

“Yeah,” Harry responded, stepping away from the shelf awkwardly.

“Are you snooping around?”

“No.”

“Right,” Louis laughed. “You should come to the kitchen and have some breakfast. Maybe some aspirins, too.”

“That’d be great.”

When they reached the kitchen, Harry saw Niall sitting at the table, dunking Oreos in milk. Two at once, using both hands.

He looked up at Harry curiously and smiled and greeted him with “Hey, Harry” before stuffing one the cookies into his mouth.

“Good morning,” Harry said even though the morning didn’t feel all that good.

“What do you want? And by that, I mean Oreos or cornflakes?” Louis asked from behind the kitchen counter, pouring a glass of water Harry hoped was for him.

“Just water and those aspirins you promised, please.”

Louis smiled like Harry’s situation was all too familiar to him. It probably was, Harry thought.

“Sure,” he said and a few seconds later he handed him the glass of water and two small pills.

“Thanks,” Harry said and swallowed the pills.

He took a sit at the table, at which Louis soon joined them, carrying a bowl of cornflakes with him.

“You look like hell,” Niall told him with an unapologetic look on his face.

“Thanks, Niall,” Harry responded sarcastically but Niall merely laugh.

“And you own me a pint for cleaning up the mess you made in the bathroom. Actually make that three pints, it was _really_ disgusting.”

“Sure,” Harry agreed.

He did feel a bit guilty. For making a mess and taking over Louis’ bed. And maybe even for judging Louis too harshly – he still couldn’t stop thinking about the biography he found on Louis’ desk.

“You want me to drive you home?” Louis asked then and Harry was pretty unsuccessful in hiding the surprise of his face.

“You don’t have to,” he said quickly. “I can take the bus.”

“No, I’ll drive you,” Louis said in a way that made it clear that it wasn’t up for discussion.

Harry nodded and as soon as Louis finished his breakfast they were off.

Louis’ car smelled like him. It was a woody, fresh smell with notes of peppermint. It was an utter mess, just like his room and Harry thought that Louis might just be the messiest person he’s ever met.

“So is it just my imagination or were you avoiding me last night?” Louis asked right after Harry put his seat belt on.

He wondered how Louis hadn’t figured out that he was trying to avoid him _all_ the time.

 _“_ I wasn’t avoiding you. I was just- busy.”

“Busy getting wasted?” Louis was smirking.

“Kind of,” Harry said and then remembered he needed to ask him something. “By the way, why do you have me on your speed dial?”

“You asked me that last night,” Louis said and laughed.

“I did? And what did you say?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“That’s no answer.”

“It’s a perfectly fine answer.”

“No, it’s not.”

Louis turned to look at him and he did this eyebrow-raising-smile thing he does that basically meant _Are you really trying to tell me I’m wrong?_ and it made Harry angry .

“Can you be honest with me for once?”

“That depends. Can _you_ be honest?”

“I’m being honest,” Harry said, feeling confused.

“No you’re not. That right there is the third lie you told me this morning. “

Louis said that with his eyes fixed on the road and Harry was grateful that he wasn’t looking at him, because he could feel tears gathering in his eyes and the last thing he needed was for Louis to notice them.

He tried to compose himself and remember what had he been untruthful about, but the only thing that came to his mind was telling Louis he wasn’t avoiding him. He was one lie short.

“And everything you say is true?”

“I never said that. I’m just saying that you can’t demand something you’re not willing to offer yourself.”

Harry remained quiet.

They’ve reached his apartment building and when Louis parked the car he turned to look at him and said “So how about a fair trade? Truth for truth?”

“Okay,” Harry said immediately, because he wanted to know the real answer so badly that he didn’t even consider the possibility that it wouldn’t be worth what he would have to give out.

“You first,” Louis said, and _of fucking course_ Harry would have to go first.

“Ok. So. I _was_ avoiding you last night. “

“Why?”

“Because it’s awkward and I’m not good at dealing with awkward.”

“And?”

“And what?”

“The other lie.”

“I don’t know what that was.”

“Snooping around?”

Right. Harry totally forgot about that.

“I was just- _looking_ around.”

Louis laughed, but he didn’t ask any _Why?_ ’s or _And?_ ’s and Harry was relieved. “It’s your turn now.”

Louis’ laughter died out as he said “I have you on my speed dial because I care about you and you’re one of the people I like talking to the most. I may not call you that often but that’s just because I screwed up and I don’t think I deserve to. And I don’t think you would want me to.”

That was a lot of information and Harry was trying to process it all, but something was confusing him.

“You screwed up?”

“You don’t think I did?” Louis said in a tone that implied he knew Harry most definitely did think that.

“No, I do, but I didn’t think _you_ thought you did.”

“Well, I do. We should’ve just been friends from the beginning or I should have had enough courage to pursue something more than that. This- well, this is just fucked up.”

Harry laughed. Loudly. And for a long time. During which Louis just kept staring at him with his eyebrows raised.

Harry couldn’t have agreed with him more, and for some reason, that might have something to do with how those aspirins finally kicked in and his headache was almost gone, he found that incredibly funny.

“So what do you suggest we do now?” he asked, once he managed to turn his laughter into a much quieter chuckle.

“Well this might sound like a cliché, but maybe we could start over.”

That did sound like a cliché. But it’s not like Harry had any better ideas.

“Okay,” he said and Louis smiled and Harry half expected him to stretch out his hand and announce “I’m Louis, nice to meet you.” Thankfully, he didn’t.

Instead he replied with “Okay” as well.

Harry unbuckled his seat belt and said “I should go. I’ll- I’ll see you around then.”

His hand was already grasping the door handle when Louis voiced out “Harry?”

Harry turned around to see him looking more nervous than he had ever saw him. It wasn’t an obvious kind of nervous, his smile was still in place and his eyes were still glowing, though a little more subtly than usual. But Harry could still tell that the aura of confidence that normally surrounded him had faded away.

“Do you want to go out with me?”

There was a part of Harry that wanted to scream out “Yes!”, but the other part, the one that was still damaged and resentful, made him be more reasonable.

“I don’t know. “

“Well, think about it, okay? And then let me know.”

Harry nodded and Louis smiled once again. He got out of the car and watched Louis drive away, thinking that the fact that he managed to make Louis Tomlinson feel nervous might be enough of the reason to say “Yes” to that offer.

-

It was already noon when Harry came home. He barely got the chance to take his shoes off, before Liam fired hundred of questions at him.

“Let him breathe, Li,” Zayn told his boyfriend, whose questions Harry was answering briefly and distractedly.

“And Louis drove you home?” Liam asked with a surprised tone in his voice.

“Yeah. And he asked me out.”

“What?” Zayn and Liam said in unison, and Harry smiled a little at their harmonization before he repeated “He asked me out. But I didn’t know what to say so he told me to think about it.”

“You’re not going to be an idiot and say yes, are you?” Zayn demanded a bit too harshly, judging by Harry’s expression.

“I’m going to go sleep for a bit,” was Harry’s response.

“Nick stopped by this morning,” Zayn called after him. “And when I say morning, I literally mean like 8 am.”

Harry turned around immediately. “He did? Why?”

“Said he got some news for you. Didn’t tell us, though.”

“Can I borrow your phone to call him? Mine’s dead.”

“We know,” Zayn laughed and handed him his phone.

Harry went to his room to call him, so Zayn didn’t get to satisfy his curiosity. He didn’t even come out to tell them what was so important that his friend had to wake them up at the crack of dawn, and Zayn considered that plain rude.

 

It was two hours later that Zayn had started working on a painting for a class. Liam went to the library and he thought it was high time he started working on a piece that was due Monday.

He didn’t get very far, however, because Harry came in and asked him to paint his future (focusing on Louis, of course).

“I can’t.”

“Sure you can. Please Zayn, I need something more than the knowledge of when I’m going to throw up or when there’s going to be a traffic jam.”

“Sorry,” was all Zayn said, but Harry sat down on his bed and that wasn’t exactly a sign that he was giving up.

“I don’t know what to do. I need your help.”

“What I paint would be based on your decision, Harry. It can’t be the other way around, don’t you get that?”

“Yeah, but if you paint my decision, then I’ll know what I’ll decide.”

Zayn shook his head in annoyance. “That makes no sense.”

“You make no sense.”

“Harry,” Zayn tried again, as patiently as he could, “just my agreement to paint this could change everything. You could change your decision based on it. I’m not going to do it.”

“I found Rodin’s biography on his desk.”

“Whose desk?”

“Louis’,” Harry said impatiently, like that should have been clear to Zayn straight away.

“So?”

“So it’s a library book. More than a month overdue. Why do you think he would have borrowed that?”

Zays sighed. Harry really was a hopeless romantic. It was painful to watch.

“I still won’t do it.”

“Please?” Harry was back to begging again.

“No. Go find some other freak like me and bother him.”

“I don’t know any other freaks like you,” Harry said with a hint of a smile that made Zayn smile in response.

“Good. At least I’m a unique freak.”

“You’re not a freak,” Harry said in a serious tone.

“And you’re not incapable of making a decision by yourself,” Zayn said and after a moment Harry nodded uncertainly.

-

When Harry arrived at Corney’s, Nick was already waiting for him.

He got up as Harry approached their corner table, grabbed his shoulder and almost yelled “Guess what?”

Harry had heard the excitement in his voice when they talked over the phone, but he was still caught surprised.

“What?” he quickly asked.

“I got a job!”

“That’s great!” Harry exclaimed. It really was. Since he got fired Nick rejected every job offer he got. And he didn’t get all that many in the first place. Harry admired his ambition but he was also a bit worried he would get kicked out of that wonderful gallery of an apartment of his.

“That’s not the great part,” Nick said with a wide grin and thrill in his eyes. “The great part is that I’ll be working as a curator at Musee Rodin.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yeah,” Nick barely got out before Harry hugged him tight and nearly started screaming like a 15-year old girl.

It wasn’t until a full minute later, when they had let go of each other and were both seated at the table, that it hit Harry what this job would also mean.

“But you’ll have to move to Paris then, right?”

“Yeah,” Nick said and the added when he saw the smile on Harry’s face fade away “Don’t you get all depressed on me now, Styles. It’s two hours by train, not half of the world away.”

“I know,” Harry said lamely. He knew it wasn’t that far away, but he also knew that not having Nick around will suck.

They agreed that Harry will come to visit him in the summer and that Nick will give him a special tour of the museum.

It was an hour later when Harry realized how nice it was sitting with Nick in their old cafe, talking about his new job and their summer plans and what an awful of a replacement Barnes is. They haven’t done it in a while, and Harry tried not to think of how they probably won’t be doing it for a long time after that, either.

Harry hasn’t mentioned anything about Louis – even though maybe Nick would have appreciated the book on Louis’ table a bit more than Zayn did, Harry still didn’t want to mess up their last Saturday afternoon at Corney’s or lessen the greatness of Nick’s news with his love life’s concerns.

However, there was something that Nick said that made a big impact on Harry’s later decision.

He was talking about his attempts at making a real life apple pie. First time he tried, he burnt it, the second time he put in salt instead of sugar, but he claimed that the result of his third attempt was a completely edible, even tasty apple pie.

When Harry asked him what even made him try again, Nick said “Thomas Edison failed 10000 times before he managed to invent the light bulb.”

Right after Harry came home, he sent Louis a text.

It was a simple _Okay :)_ _  
_

**Epilogue**

 

When Zayn painted his own future for the first time, he could hardly bring himself to regret it, no matter what he might’ve said in the past.

He stared at the canvas with a small smile tugging at his lips and the first thought he had was about how they’ve sure picked up some nice tuxedos.

The second one was _Harry looks happy_ and the third one Is _that Nick performing the ceremony??_

Wondering how come he got to have all of that came fourth. But that thought lasted the longest. It was a riddle to him how in the hell he deserved Liam and how the hell he got to keep him forever.

Not that he was complaining, though. He’d gladly live in that kind of ignorance as long as the future he painted didn’t change.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's finally over!   
> Thanks to everyone who read the story and left kudos and lovely comments - I hope you weren't disappointed with the ending. :)


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